


The Downfall Akuma

by Aeshdan



Series: Beneath The Moth Banner [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Everyone is royalty and nobility, F/F, F/M, Good Hawkmoth, Well sort of good, and really powerful, less evil anyway, lots of politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeshdan/pseuds/Aeshdan
Summary: Adrien Agreste is the son and heir of a conquering tyrant. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is the princess whose arranged marriage was the price of her kingdom's survival. By day, they at best tolerate and at worst despise each other. But when the two meet at night, unknown to each other behind the masks of ancient heroes, they find themselves bound together by a shared secret. But theirs are not the only ancient roles suddenly imbued with new life. The two heroes must work as one to thwart the peril that once threw the world into madness, all while the battle between love and duty rages in both their hearts.





	1. The Miraculouses Return

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, this is the second installment of _Beneath The Moth Banner_. It has been ten years since Sabine Dupain-Cheng signed the treaty which betrothed her daughter to the heir of Gabriel Agreste, and things are beginning to happen.
> 
> A few warnings before we begin:
> 
> 1: As noted above, this is most definitely an AU. While I tried to keep the essential cores of everyone's personalities the same, a different world will make these into different people. The characters you think you recognize may not always be exactly who or what you think of them as, and not all the relationships will work out the same. 
> 
> 2: While the core nature of each Miraculous (creation and good luck for the Ladybug, destruction and bad luck for the Black Cat, empowerment and control for the Moth, etc) has remained constant, the exact ways these natures were expressed has changed to fit this new world. This and all other worldbuilding is ultimately my own invention.
> 
> 3: This story contains non-explicit references to underage (by our standards) marriage, issues of dubious consent, nudity, and sex. It will also contain slightly more explicit descriptions of violence, both magic and otherwise.

Her Royal Highness Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Princess (for the moment, at least) of Boulangerie, was saying goodbye to the forest behind her parent’s castle. For years, this had been a place for her to laugh and play and be a girl, free from the burdens that came with being a Princess. But now it was time to grow up.

_I will never walk these forests again, never again see the flowers bloom or dip my feet in the stream. I must go away to my doom, and I will never come home again._

She’d known this day was coming for as long as she could remember. For ten years, the peace her parents’ sacrifice had bought had held. Agreste had sent no soldiers west, save for a few guards for the embassy and the merchant caravans that frequently came out of the east. Boulangerie had continued to thrive under her parents’ rule, and had even enjoyed a burst of prosperity. But like a stormcloud on the horizon of a sunny day, there had always been the perpetual awareness that Boulangerie still existed only because Gabriel Agreste permitted it to exist. And the time would come when he would demand the promised offering in return for its forbearance.

And now, that day had almost come. In just a few days it would be her thirteenth birthday, and on the day after that she would depart for the Agrestian capital at New Astruc. She wouldn’t be required to wed young Agreste for years yet, but old Agreste had insisted that she spend a few years learning the ways of his court before she was given to his son.

Her parents could not defy him now, no more than they could have a decade ago. Indeed, Agreste was far stronger now than he had been when the treaty was signed. He had consolidated his hold over the fractured mess that had once been the kingdoms of Papillion and Pavonia, and they would give him no trouble. Sapotis, across the sea to the South, had fallen years ago, and the last few resistance movements were being crushed.

Even Volpinium, which had thought itself safe behind the inviolate bulwark of Boulangerie and the matchless skill of its fleets, was under assault. With the great shipyards of Lavillant and Alexia under his command, Agreste could build and crew a navy to rival Volpinium's. And though his sailors could not match the skill of the Bee Kingdom's fleets, the Moth Brooch and the powers it could grant did much to level the score. As yet, the Volpinian fleet and the Agrestian had yet to meet, but far too many Volpinian privateers had already met their end at the hands of Agreste's ships.

Ahead of her, she saw something that jarred her out of her brooding. A mighty oak, one at least as wide around as she was tall, had stood a short ways ahead for as long as she could remember. But since she had last been this way it had fallen over, cutting a huge gash in the forest canopy in its fall.

 _Poor tree,_ she thought, vaulting up atop it. _It’s almost like a symbol of Boulangerie. For generations it stood here, growing wide and tall under the Sun. And then a storm comes along out of nowhere and tears down in a moment what took generations to grow, just like Agreste’s demands did to us. We… wait, what is that?_

As she had been thinking, she’d been walking along the trunk of the tree, until she came to the torn mass of roots at the end. And she thought she’d seen something shiny and definitely not natural in the pit where the tree had been.

She jumped down off the trunk and made her way down into the hole. And sure enough, nearly buried at the bottom of the pit was something made of polished black wood, with a bit of red enamel visible.

Marinette quickly dug the object out and brushed it off, revealing it to be a small octagonal box, decorated with complex designs in red enamel. She opened it, and for just a second she saw a pair of simple black earrings inside, resting on a soft red cushion. But then a glowing orb of red light materialized and drifted up out of the box.

“Tikki and Plagg!” yelped Marinette, dropping the box and jumping back.

“Just Tikki, actually,” chirped the tiny red-and-black-spotted figure that had materialized from the orb. “Hello, Marinette!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Weeks later_ **

Adrien Agreste walked in the ruins of a dead city. His father’s capital of New Astruc had been built atop the very ruins of Old Astruc, as the capital of the Astrucan Republic was now known. There was little of the old city left above ground. Little had survived Downfall in the first place, and some of the remainder had been leveled by his father to clear space for rebuilding. Moreover, those buildings that had survived intact (or nearly so) had instead been renovated, and were now occupied.

But underground… that was a whole different story. There had been an entire network of catacombs, cellars, sewers, and all manner of underground rooms and passages under Astruc even before Downfall, and his madness had turned it into a deranged maze, alternately boring twisting passages through solid stone with Plagg’s power, and then the next moment filling the empty spaces with twisted constructs of Tikki’s essence. Altogether, it made the perfect place for a bored young boy to go exploring.

He was fairly certain his father knew he was down here, and was equally certain that he wouldn’t care. As long as he kept to the rules and didn’t miss his tutoring sessions or his occasional times learning directly from his father, Gabriel didn’t seem to care _what_ he did.

Though Adrien couldn’t blame his father too much for being preoccupied. Running the Empire took up so much _time_ , and in many ways the Moth Brooch actually made that worse. One of the great advantages the Brooch gave was its ability to let his father receive reports from and issue orders to his generals, governors, and agents instantly and untraceably, without waiting days or even weeks for messages to be passed along through conventional means. But to take full advantage of this capacity, his father had to manage everything _directly_. And even with the level of delegation his father had been forced to accept, sending and receiving messages through the Brooch took up a huge chunk of his time every day.

 _I suppose I should be thankful that he makes time to interact with me at all,_ thought Adrien, _even if it is more as a ruler training his heir than as a father spending time with his son. Chloe doesn’t even get that much. And to be fair, he_ does _give me credit when I do well in our personal lessons, and I_ am _learning… What have we here?_

Ahead of Adrien the passage split in three. To the left a wall of ladystone, blood-red with black spots, blocked the passage completely only a few feet down. To the right it went on straight and smooth as far as the light of Adrien’s torch illuminated. But ahead there was a similar wall of ladystone. This one, however, had a door of polished wood in it. The door wasn’t completely aligned with the passage, but enough of it was exposed for him to reach the handle.

Adrien shifted the torch to his left hand and tried the handle.

_I hope the door isn’t locked. And I hope it opens inward. I’d never be able to get the door open if it opens outward, not with half the door covered in earth and stone. And I’d like to see what’s on the other side. A door means that this is probably a room from a building in Old Astruc, dropped down here when Downfall tore the ground out from under it. And buildings have things in them. Furniture and trinkets and Tikki alone knows what else._

But the door did open inward, and wasn’t locked. It opened with ease, though not without a shriek as long-unused hinges groaned. On the other side of the door was a largish room of ladystone. Once, it might indeed have held furniture, but it was now empty. And the cause of that emptiness was only too obvious.

At first glance, the thing uncurling itself from slumber in the middle of the room might have appeared to be a largish black housecat. But one glance at its eyes would have disproved that. For these eyes were twin pools of solid green fire, without iris or pupil. No creature of flesh and blood had such eyes. This was a Plaggian akuma, a spirit of destruction such as had haunted the ruins of Old Astruc for decades after Downfall. But even akumas died in time, and Adrien had never expected to see one still alive after all these centuries.

“Mrrow?” inquired the akuma as it stretched. Its fiery eyes met Adrien’s.

Adrien’s first impulse was to turn and run, but something told him that would be the wrong answer. This was a predator, and the last thing he wanted was to look like prey. His second impulse was to try and kill it, but he knew his chances of victory would be poor. Akumas could be killed, but they were a lot stronger and tougher than they looked, and none were more dangerous than Plaggians. And then a third thought floated into his mind.

_This may be an akuma, but it’s also a cat. Cats like cheese. And I have cheese._

Still holding the akuma’s gaze with his own, Adrien reached into his pocket and drew out one of the bite-sized cheese wheels he carried, wrapped in wax, as snacks on these expeditions. He quickly peeled off the wax and then crouched down, setting the cheese wheel on the smooth ladystone floor.

“Here kitty kitty,” he said. “Come and get the nice cheese.”

The akuma broke eye contact, padded forward, and snapped up the cheese wheel in a couple of quick bites. Then it thrust its head up towards Adrien. Taking a chance, Adrien reached out and began to scratch the akuma between the ears. Its fur was surprisingly soft, like a real cat’s.

The akuma began to purr as it rubbed against Adrien’s hand, and then it suddenly dissolved into a cloud of blackish smoke. The cloud hovered in the air for a moment before drifting across the room and vanishing into a small octagonal box of black wood, decorated with designs in red enamel, that sat on a shelf.

 _Well, I wanted interesting,_ thought Adrien. _And this is certainly interesting. A Plaggian akuma could have gotten out of this room easily if it wanted too, but it didn’t. So that most likely means it was set to guard this box. But Downfall was the last Cat Noir, if you even count_ him _as a Cat Noir, and only they could create or command Plaggian akumas. So this must have been set here_ before _Downfall. And if the akuma survived all those years, someone must have put a truly impressive amount of power into creating it. So what would a Cat Noir of the Astrucan Republic value so highly that he would set a guard over it powerful enough to endure for centuries?_

_Let’s find out._

Adrien stuck the torch in a holder on the wall to free his hands. Then he carefully lifted the lid of the box, braced for the akuma to come boiling back out. Instead, a green sun erupted from inside the box. Adrien leapt back, one hand falling to the knife at his belt. But the orb of green flame simply faded away to reveal a tiny black shape with the slitted green eyes of a cat.

“Hello, kid,” it said with a vast yawn. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any more of that cheese?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Weeks earlier_ **

“You… you’re T-T-Tikki?” said Marinette shakily, staring at the tiny figure hovering in front of her. She had to admit, it did look a lot like the illustrations of the kwami of Creation in the books of legend.

“Yes,” replied the tiny form simply, with a small smile.

“Ti-“ Marinette began, before cutting off with a sudden burst of embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” said the ladybug kwami. “I understand what you meant.”

“I just... If you’re Tikki, then those must be the Earrings of the Ladybug,” said Marinette. “People have been searching for those for generations, and all this time they were hidden not ten minute’s walk from the city gates. If my parents had found you, they wouldn’t have had to sign that accursed… treaty…”

Marinette trailed off. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt hope once more. _The Earrings of the Ladybug and the Ring of the Black Cat are more powerful than any other Miraculouses. If I, if we, have the Earrings, we can take on Agreste! I don’t have to go!_

“Marinette, I know what you’re thinking,” said Tikki, and Marinette’s brief flare of hope began to fade at the dejected look on Tikki’s face. “But there’s something you _must_ understand. I’m _not_ more powerful than Nooroo, not as we both are right now. When a kwami first bonds a human, we’re _weak_ in this Realm. Over time, we grow stronger. The bond with a human lets us pull more and more of our… concept, I suppose you could call it… through the barriers and into the Physical. But unless the proper precautions are taken and a new Bearer takes us up almost _immediately_ , we lose all that progress when the bond breaks. The Astrucans knew how to preserve a lot of our strength through a change of Bearers, and they had all kinds of rituals and techniques to speed up the bonding, but even then it took _years_ for the bond to reach full strength. And Gabriel Agreste’s bond with Nooroo is at very nearly its full strength already. I _will_ surpass Nooroo in strength eventually, but I won’t reach that level overnight.”

Marinette slumped to the ground and buried her face in her hands, trying to hold back tears. “So nothing’s changed, then,” she said. “I might as well just bury the Earrings again. Boulangerie still can’t fight Agreste. And if I take the Earrings, _he_ will claim them, and be more unstoppable than ever.”

“Not necessarily,” said Tikki. “You see…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Weeks Later_ **

“But if there’s a spell on the Miraculouses to keep people from noticing them,” asked Adrien, “Why does everyone know that my father has a Miraculous?”

“Because he turned the spell _off_ , genius!” laughed the kwami of Destruction. “He _wants_ people to know what power he has. But if you want to keep me secret, keep your dad from taking me away, I can oblige. As long as you don’t do anything stupid like transform right in front of someone, nobody will realize what that shiny new ring really is, or put two and two together and figure out why the new Cat Noir looks kind of like Adrien Agreste and the two never seem to be around at the same time.”

“Ok,” said Adrien. “So I get a secret identity. What else? I know you said you’re not at anything like full power yet, but what _do_ you grant?”

“To start off?” asked Plagg rhetorically. “Supernatural strength, reflexes, and endurance, much stronger than what those Moth Guards of your father’s get. Spiffy indestructible magic armor-clothes. A shiny staff with a few tricks. You’ll have a cat’s eyes and ears, plus the costume includes a tail to help with balance. And you’ll inflict mild to moderate bad luck on your enemies. That’s all passive stuff. For active powers, you start out with Jinx and Cataclysm.”

“And what do those do?” asked Adrien, intrigued.

“Jinx is kind of an amplified version of the passive bad luck aura. Once you tag someone with it, everything that could go wrong for them will go wrong until you detransform, which breaks the Jinx. Cataclysm will destroy the next thing you touch after triggering it. Be careful with those two. You can only use each once per transformation, at least for now, and once you use one of them you’ll have only five minutes before you _have_ to detransform.”

“Got it,” said Adrien, rolling the ring around in his hand. “And you said cheese restores your energies after a transformation.”

Plagg nodded. “Mushrooms or alcohol would work too, but cheese is tastier.”

“Let’s give this a whirl, then,” said Adrien, slipping the ring onto his finger. “Plagg, claws out!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Weeks earlier_ **

“Tikki, spots on!”

As she uttered the trigger phrase, Marinette saw Tikki dissolve into a pinkish blur shooting towards her head. And then the transformation hit. It was clean and cool and refreshing, like a cup of cold water to a parched throat or fresh air after being trapped in a stuffy room. Marinette couldn’t help laughing for sheer simple joy at the feeling.

The cloud of pink sparkles that had briefly obscured her vision faded. Glancing down at herself, Marinette blushed. All her previous clothes had vanished, replaced with a seamless garment that, while it covered her from neck to toe, clung as tight as a second skin. Marinette had more than a passing interest in clothing and cloth, but she had never seen _anything_ even remotely like this stuff. The closest comparison she could think of was that it looked a little like she’d been clad in fish’s mail, like a mermaid out of some old legend.

Her attention was diverted from her attire by the weight at one hip. She reached down, and found a largish yo-yo attached to an almost invisible loop in the bizarre fabric. She unhooked it, slipped the ring onto one gloved finger, and hefted the weight in her hands.

Marinette had never really played much with yo-yos when she was younger, but the transformation seemed to come with an instinctive feel for this along with everything else. A couple of practice swings gave her the feel of the weapon, and then she tossed it up and looped it around a tree branch. The cord retracted, yanking her up off the ground, and a midair flip somehow managed to unwind the cord and put her atop the branch all in one instinctive movement. Ironically, she nearly fell off from the shock of realizing what she’d just managed to pull off.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and then she was off again, leaping from branch to branch like a squirrel or swinging from the branches on her yo-yo cord. She let out another ringing peal of laughter at the exhilaration of soaring through the air, the Ladybug magic running through her veins like light.

 _Time to try out those other powers Tikki mentioned,_ she thought with a giggle as she loop-the-looped around a tree trunk and went soaring back the way she’d come. In a moment, she came to the trunk of the fallen tree. A quick glance confirmed that the box in which she’d found the Earrings of the Ladybug was sitting on the ground beside the pit, where she thought she remembered putting it. She didn’t want to lose that.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” she shouted, stretching out her right hand. She felt the Ladybug magic surge, pouring through her like cool water and clear light. It shot down her arm, and a stream of what looked like thousands of tiny ladybugs, each trailing rose-pink sparkles like those thrown off by her transformation, erupted from her splayed fingers. They swirled around the fallen tree, and when they dissipated the tree was once again standing upright, roots dug deep into the earth, branches spread wide, and leaves thick and green.

“Tikki, spots off,” said Marinette. She felt the energy drain from her, and had to fight the temptation to crumple to the ground with sudden exhaustion. She knew she wasn’t actually tired, of course. The sudden reversion to a mere mortal body just made her feel tired by comparison, and that was already fading. Tikki popped into existence in front of her, looking as tired as Marinette felt. Marinette extended her hand, and Tikki happily dropped down and curled up in Marinette’s palm. Marinette tucked the tiny god into one of the pockets of her dress, scooped up the box, and began to walk back towards the castle.

“Don’t worry, Tikki,” she said. “We’ll be home soon, and then I’ll get you something to eat. You said you liked bread, right?”

“Yes,” chirped Tikki, poking her head out of the pocket. “Bread is good.” She laughed with a sound like chiming bells. “You know, I haven’t had a good piece of bread in about three hundred years,” she said.

Marinette smiled. “Fresh bread coming right up,” she said. “Now stay hidden. We’ll be back in the city in a few minutes. I don’t know what my parents would do if they found out you were here, and I’m not sure I want to know. They might try and take you away, and I have no intention of giving you up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, our heroes have found their Miraculouses. But the Ring and the Earrings will not be enough to turn the two of them aside from their fates just yet. Tune in next time to see Marinette's arrival at New Astruc and Adrien and Marinette's first meeting.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Jinx comes from Kryal's most excellent _Luck Of The Draw_


	2. Welcome To New Astruc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, when we last left our heroes, they had just found their Miraculouses. Now for Marinette and Adrien's first meeting. I wonder how it will go...
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains steamy naked Alya scenes.

**_Weeks later_ **

Her Royal Highness Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Princess (technically) of Boulangerie, looked down on the city of her conqueror.

The capital of the Astrucan Republic, and now of the Agrestian Empire, was built in the valley of the Nikeldan River, barely a day’s ride from the eastern borders of Boulangerie. The city had been built on both sides of the river, with many tall bridges linking the two halves. Higher up on both sides, the slopes of the valley were dotted with villas and estates, retreats for the high nobility or dwellings for those who didn’t care to live in the city itself.

The outer wall of New Astruc had an oddly patchwork appearance. Here and there sections of the old city wall still stood intact, seamless lengths of ladystone ranging from a few paces across to one section that covered nearly a full tenth of the city perimeter, and had an intact gatehouse still in it.

 _How in Tikki’s name is that stuff made, anyway?_ wondered Marinette. _I’ll have to ask her about it sometime, when we have privacy. If she even remembers. She said her memories of the Republic are fuzzy, and there must be some reason why Joanskeep is made in the normal manner and not out of ladystone._

The rest of the walls had been filled in with normal architecture, chiseled and laid blocks of stone. Not as hard or seamless as ladystone, but still quite impressive. And the city they enclosed was _huge_. Old Astruc had been larger than any modern city, and Agreste had rebuilt the city wall along the same lines it had covered before. Huge sections of the city were still rubble or stood empty, waiting for time and prosperity to fill them in, but the sections that were occupied bustled with life. And everywhere there flew the pink moth on a purple field of Gabriel Agreste.

Marinette turned to her escort, fifty soldiers in Boulangerie scarlet and sky-blue dispatched as an honor guard to deliver her up to her fate.

“Let’s go,” she said, putting on a smile. “Wouldn’t want to be late for my own coming-out party, would I?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ok, how do I look?” asked Adrien, slowly turning around in a circle with his arms outstretched.

“In my admittedly non-expert opinion, Your Highness,” replied Nino Lahiffe, “You look very good. Though you might want to do something about your hair. Or you might not. Are you going for ‘approachable and human’, or ‘poised and in control’?”

“Probably the latter, at least for today,” said Adrien. “My father hasn’t really left me the other option.”

“And what do you mean, you’re not an expert?” he added over his shoulder, as he dug out the comb and began to wrestle his towel-fluffed hair into shape. “You’re my companion. If you’re not an expert, who is?”

“Lady Lavillant,” said Nino promptly. “Or your sister. Or even Lady Haprèle or A-Alya would probably be better than me for this. I’m pretty sure that if you want to know what your betrothed is going to think of you, you need to get a woman’s opinion.”

“Well, I trust your judgement,” said Adrien, trying to suppress a giggle at Nino’s stumbling over the name of the newly-arrived Sapotisian princess. That had been one of the more spectacular examples of love at first sight Adrien had ever witnessed. “And there’s no time to find any of the others anyway, except maybe Chloe. Thank Tikki my dad doesn’t insist on my wearing his colors, even on these occasions.”

Adrien felt Plagg squirm inside his tunic at that line, and could imagine the kwami rolling his slitted eyes. Even with only a couple of day’s acquaintance, Adrien had already discovered that Plagg was as vain as any cat, and he didn’t much care for Adrien offering praise to any other kwami.

“Amen to that,” said Nino with feeling. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed purple could go so well with your father’s complexion and so badly with yours and your sister’s, what with you all being related.”

Adrien nodded and turned to the door. It was time to go meet his bride-to-be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Astruc was a bizarre blend of ordinary and exotic. Their path from the gates to the Imperial Palace took them mostly through the populated regions, and those were, by and large, little different from the streets and markets and districts of Joanskeep which were so familiar to Marinette. But scattered here and there were little reminders of where she was and what fate was about to claim her. There were more than a few reminders of Downfall’s madness: random constructs of Ladybug magic or gashes and holes carved out of the deep stone by the power of the Black Cat’s Ring. And there were remnants here and there of Old Astruc. Buildings were decorated with mosaics showing the Two, or some of the Five, or depicting other Miraculouses, unknown and lost since Downfall. Pillars of marble decorated with ornate bas-relief carvings held up roofs layered with stucco tiles, or surrounded open courtyards.

There were also the perpetual reminders of Agreste’s rule: the occasional Moth Guard in their gleaming plate armor and rich purple cloaks embroidered with the Pink Moth, the Agrestian banners everywhere, the regular soldiers and city guards in pink-trimmed purple. Even the patter of the merchants, with its medley of languages and perpetual references to the coinage of the Empire, reminded Marinette again and again that she was far from home, and might never again return.

Eventually, they reached the gates of the Imperial Palace. Waiting for them there was a woman in a robe of Agrestian purple, with brilliant blue eyes and short dark hair. The gate itself was guarded by a pair of Moth Guards, and there were more Guards and a small army of servants in Agrestian purple accompanying the woman.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” said the woman with a nod of her head. “I am Nathalie Sancouer, the Imperial Seneschal.”

 _This is it,_ thought Marinette. _Time to save those whom I can save._

“Captain,” she said, sliding off her horse and turning to face the head of her escort, “I believe it is time for you to return to Boulangerie. Please tell my mother and father that I arrived safely to Emperor Agreste’s court.” She put on a fake smile. “I am _sure_ he will take good care of me from now on,” she said sweetly, pitching her voice to be heard by Sancouer and her entourage.

 _And it’s not as though fifty guards would do me any good, not here,_ she thought. _There must be ten or twenty times that number of Moth Guards alone in and around the city, and Tikki only knows how many human soldiers. No point in keeping these men away from home._

It was the same reason why she had brought no servants with her. She refused to force anyone to share her own fate. If she had to sacrifice her own freedom and security to buy it for her mother’s subjects, she wanted to make sure that, as far as it lay in her power, every one of those subjects received what she had purchased at such a steep price.

And there was another consideration as well. In the event that it became truly necessary, she was nearly certain she could escape New Astruc as Ladybug. But while she could get out easily enough herself, it would be nearly impossible to take anyone with her. If things went so spectacularly wrong that it proved necessary to flee the Agrestian capital, she had no intention of leaving behind servants or guards to be taken prisoner by Gabriel Agreste.

The captain of her escort visibly winced, but he nodded his head and spurred his horse about. The rest of her escort followed suit, and Marinette tried not to feel her stomach sink at the disappearance of her last link to her home.

“Thank you for that, Your Highness,” said Sancouer with another polite nod. “Now, if you will follow me, Emperor Agreste and his court are waiting to receive you. The servants will take your luggage to your quarters.”

“Lead on, Madam Sancouer,” said Marinette.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng of the sovereign realm of Boulangerie!”

Marinette waited for a single breath after the herald’s announcement rang out, then strode forward through the main doors of Gabriel Agreste’s throne room. Sancouer had disappeared through a side door after guiding her to this point, so Marinette entered the hall alone.

 _No, not alone,_ thought Marinette, as she felt Tikki shift in her hidden pocket. _Never alone, not even here._ The thought banished her nerves, and she stood as tall as she could.

The hall was packed with the nobility and wealthy of the Empire, a jostling mass in a hundred different colors and styles of dress. But the path up the middle was left open, marked by a soft carpet in Agrestian purple.

At the end of the hall was a raised dais, and on that dais were set three thrones. In the central and largest of the thrones sat Gabriel Agreste. He was untransformed, and clad in heavy purple robes. There was a heavy chain of rose gold set with amethysts about his neck, and Marinette could see the glint of rings on his fingers, but his gray hair bore no crown. At his elbow was a small table with a padded cushion on it, and a tiny purple shape that had to be his kwami sat on the cushion, sipping from a tiny cup. The Moth Brooch gleamed silver against his robes, framed by the rose gold chain.

The throne to Agreste’s left stood empty, but on his right hand sat a young boy of about Marinette’s age, with golden-blond hair and vivid green eyes. He was clad in a white silk coat with golden buttons over an undershirt and leggings of black, and wore a slender chain of yellow gold about his neck. As Marinette drew closer, she could see an expression of blank politeness on his face, which contrasted favorably to the smug satisfaction she could see in Gabriel Agreste’s features.

 _So that’s Adrien Agreste_ , Marinette thought. _Well, at least he’s handsome._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _Well,_ thought Adrien, _at least she’s cute._

Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng came to a halt before the dais and dropped into a perfect curtsy.

“Welcome to New Astruc, Your Highness,” said Adrien’s father. “I am pleased you could join us.”

“I could scarcely refuse such a polite invitation, _Your Majesty_ ,” said Marinette faux-sweetly, rising from her curtsy.

Years of practice let Adrien maintain his façade of calm, but internally he winced at the barely-concealed venom in Marinette’s tone.

 _Plagg_ damn _it, father,_ he thought, hands tightening around each other where they lay hidden in his lap, _why couldn’t you have made this a marriage of_ equals _?_

That flash of fire in those sky-blue eyes should have brought him joy. After all, he had no desire to marry a shrinking violet or courtly puff. He wanted a wife who could be his _partner_ , his equal and helpmeet, as Tikki was to Plagg and Plagg to Tikki.

But now his joy was alloyed with dread. For Marinette Dupain-Cheng would have every reason to loathe him, after the farce of a treaty his father had forced on her parents. And that same spirit that would have made her such a worthy Empress would now be turned against him and his father.

_I don’t think she’ll actively rebel. Boulangerie is her hostage at least as much as she is its, and she has to know as well as I do that they’d stand no chance if Father sent the legions west. But I don’t want to know what kind of ways she might find to get subtle revenge. And even if she never rebels, I’ll still have to spend the rest of my life wedded to a woman who hates me._

The image of himself in bed with Marinette, the same barely-leashed defiance in those brilliant blue eyes as she submitted to his touch, flashed through his mind. Just the thought made his skin crawl, and even all his practice couldn’t his face from showing the sudden surge of revulsion that swept through him.

He saw a brief flash of pain in Marinette’s eyes, and realized with a surge of embarrassment and redoubled dread that she’d seen his revulsion… and wholly misinterpreted its cause.

His father either hadn’t noticed the little interchange, or was ignoring it, for his voice was still heavy with satisfaction.

“Well, Your Highness, there shall be a ball this evening to celebrate your arrival at court. In the meantime, you and my son may begin to acquaint yourselves with each other. Adrien?”

“Yes, Father?” said Adrien.

“Please take Princess Dupain-Cheng here, and show her about the palace. Teach her something of the Court, introduce her to your friends, help her get settled in and prepared for tonight’s festivities.”

“Yes, Father,” said Adrien, rising from his seat and walking down the steps of the dais. “If you would please follow me, Your Highness,” he said, giving Marinette a formal bow before gesturing towards one of the side doors. He couldn’t do anything _real_ about his father’s mistreatment of Marinette, but at least he could treat her with all the respect and honor she was due.

 _I have almost three years to court her,_ he thought hopefully. _Maybe I can get her to at least accept me by the time we actually get married._

“As you wish, Your Highness,” replied Marinette, and Adrien winced internally at her tone.

_Or maybe not._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As she saw the brief flash of revulsion on Adrien’s face, Marinette felt her heart sink. She knew that she wasn’t the most beautiful of women, but surely the mere thought of her shouldn’t have made Adrien look almost ill.

Still, Marinette had to admire Adrien’s poise. He clearly didn’t like this any more than she did, but other than that brief flash of revulsion his façade was perfect.

As they exited the bustle of the Court, Adrien turned to Marinette. “Would you care for a bath and a chance to recover from your journey, Your Highness? The bathhouses have several private bathing rooms, and there is no particular hurry. The ball won’t start until about five of the clock, and it’s not even noon yet.”

 _Is that supposed to be a hint,_ Your Highness _?_ thought Marinette tartly. _I didn’t think I was that dirty, but if I must bathe before you can stand to have me in your presence, so be it. At least it will give me a little time alone with Tikki._

“Thank you, Your Highness,” was what she actually said. “A bath would be very welcome.”

“You’re welcome, Your Highness” said Adrien. “I imagine you’ll want a change of clothes as well, and I know where Father plans to put you up. So if you will follow me?”

She followed him through the winding corridors of the palace, until they came to a suite of rooms with purple-clad servants busy bringing in and unpacking her luggage. It was actually a very nice suite, at least judging by the furnishings, though there seemed to be a lot of empty space.

“Father wasn’t sure what you might like in the way of furnishings,” explained Adrien, gesturing at the empty space. “If you want anything – a piano, art supplies, more chairs so you can receive more guests, whatever – just let me or Nathalie or one of the master-servants know. There isn’t much we can’t procure.”

 _Except for the things that really matter,_ thought Marinette wryly. _Except for freedom, or my family._

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said out loud. “I will think on it.” She turned and disappeared into the closet where a servant was hanging up her dresses. She had brought ballgowns, of course, but she had no desire to put one on this early. Instead, she selected clothes similar to the ones she was already wearing. A soft white shift would go under a dark grey dress, and pink leggings would protect her modesty in case the dress flared.

From her new quarters, Adrien led her back across the palace again, until they arrived at a corridor that dead-ended, with a set of double-doors in each wall. One set of doors was decorated with a silhouette of a figure in a dress, the other showed a figure in a tunic and leggings.

“I believe this is where you and I part ways for the present,” said Adrien. “Ladies only beyond those doors.” A gesture of his hand indicated the door with the figure in the dress. “There are bells to ring for servants if you require anything.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Marinette.

“See you later, then,” said Adrien, and turned to leave.

“See you later,” replied Marinette, and pushed open the bathhouse door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette let out a long sigh of relief as she sank into the hot water. Tikki wiggled out from inside Marinette’s discarded dress and bobbed up into the air.

 _Tikki’s spots, that feels good_ , thought Marinette. The hot water flowed over her, and a little bit of her pain and stress seemed to melt away. The heat soothed the sores from many days in the saddle, and aching muscles unknotted.

“So, Tikki,” said Marinette, “Here we are.”

“Here we are indeed!” chirped Tikki. “And there’s a ball later on, that sounds like it’ll be fun!”

“Oh, I doubt that,” said Marinette. “Having Agreste parade me in front of his court like a trophy, and then having to dance with that snooty son of his? Not my idea of fun. But at least I should be able to go out with you tonight. That I _am_ looking forward to.”

“Marinette, I don’t think you’re being very fair to Adrien,” said Tikki. “You’re already judging him when you’ve barely met him. And you have to admit, the circumstance weren’t the best. Don’t you think you should-“

Suddenly, Tikki’s eyes widened and she shot down into the water. Before Marinette could react, a voice spoke from behind her.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette started and twisted around at the sound of that voice. She had never heard anyone squeeze so much disdain into only six syllables.

Standing in the alcove entrance was a young woman of about Marinette’s age. Like everyone else in the bathhouse who wasn’t nude, she was clad in a simple linen shift. Her hair was the same golden-blonde shade as Adrien’s, and her eyes were the same shade of blue as Marinette’s own. She wore a golden chain about her neck, with a locket decorated with a peacock on the end.

“I want to make sure you understand something,” she said. “You are here for one reason and one reason only: because my father didn’t want to be bothered with actually giving your pathetic kingdom the stomping it deserved, and in order to get the kingdom he needed you. But just because you happen to have gotten to share Adrien’s bed – which, by the way, is already _far_ more than you deserve – I don’t want you to think that that somehow makes you my _equal_. You are Adrien’s bedwarmer, nothing more.”

Marinette’s face flamed in a mixture of fury and shame, her earlier stress returning tenfold. The girl’s words were enough to identify her. This could only be Chloé Agreste, Adrien’s younger twin. And her words were a confirmation of all of Marinette’s worst fears.

“Really, _Your Highness_ ,” came a third voice. “Do you expect Princess Dupain-Cheng or anyone else to believe that you’re suddenly an expert on what your father wants, when even _I_ know that he hasn’t spent a single minute with you in private for years now?”

Chloé stiffened for a moment, before visibly recovering her composure. “Oh, so little Miss Sandbeetle has decided to stick her nose in!” she jeered. “Fine, you two deserve each other. I’m going to find some _worthwhile_ company.”

Chloé turned and brushed past the newcomer, a young woman a year or two older than Marinette. She had skin the color of cinnamon, and hair a few shades darker and redder. Her eyes were an odd pale brownish-gold and she was entirely naked, aside from a certain amount of condensation on her skin.

As she was about to disappear, Chloé turned and shot one last remark over her shoulder. “Hey, maybe if you’re lucky you can get Dupain-Cheng here to sneak you into Adrien’s bed. Get an imperial bastard in that belly of yours and you’d finally have something _real_ to brag about.” And with that, she turned on her heel and was gone.

Marinette had almost completely disappeared under the water’s surface, and she knew her exposed skin had to be as red as Tikki.

“Well,” said the newcomer in a rueful voice, “I see that you’ve met Chloé Agreste. Not the nicest person to have accosting you in the bath. Don’t worry, she talks a big game, but she doesn’t have any real power. The Tyrant and his son spoil her because she’s family, but even they don’t actually listen to her.”

Marinette resurfaced part of the way. “Uh… thanks for standing up for me there,” she said, her face still scarlet.

“My pleasure,” said the other. “Alya Céasaire, formerly of Sapotis, at your service,” she said, giving a bow.

“M-Marinette Dupain-Cheng, of Boulangerie,” said Marinette. She felt her embarrassment fade a little, and curiosity replaced it. “Say, wasn’t your family…”

“My father was the leader of the resistance against the Tyrant, yes,” said Alya. “Here, scooch over.”

“ _What!?_ ” blurted out Marinette, her face instantly going scarlet again.

“Relax, girl,” said Alya as she slid into the pool beside Marinette. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before. Anyway, my father was the last true king of Sapotis. Even once he lost my mother and was driven off the throne, he led a resistance against the Tyrant. Kept it going for years, until maybe six months ago he finally got caught and killed. Not long after that, my aunt and uncle struck a deal with the Tyrant. They surrender and rule Sapotis as loyal puppets in my name, and I get sent off here where I can’t do anything to stop them, and where all my father’s followers know I’ll get my head chopped off if _they_ try anything. I’m like maybe sixty percent sure they intend to kill me in a year or so, when my father’s fame back home has faded a bit and they think they can get away with it.”

Marinette couldn’t help a slight gasp at that. “T-Tikki and Plagg, that’s horrible!” she said, hoping Alya hadn’t noticed her slight stumble on Tikki’s name. “You think your own family wants to kill you?”

“They kind of have to, if they want to be sure of getting away with what they did,” said Alya. “In a year and eight months I come of age, and they can’t know that I won’t be willing to swallow my father’s honor and swear to his murderer. If I do, they lose their cushy thrones. The Tyrant’s got no reason to deny me my father’s throne, and his own rules state that he’s got to give it to me if I’m willing to bow to him. He won’t break those without a fairly good reason.”

“Oh,” said Marinette vaguely. Between Chloe’s rants, Alya’s story, Alya’s naked body pressing up against hers, and the general stress of the day, she was feeling a bit dazed.

“Anyway,” said Alya, “What’s your story? I know the public version is that your parents basically struck their own bargain with the Tyrant, that they get to live out their lives more or less in peace and then _He_ gets you and Boulangerie and just about everything else. Is that it, or is there more to it than that?”

Marinette winced. “That’s not _exactly_ how it happened...” she began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that could have gone better. Still, I'm sure they will get to know each other better soon.
> 
> Tune in next time for the ball, and the introduction of much of the rest of the cast!


	3. Stoneheart's Song

Lady Rose Lavillant spun round in a circle, letting the twirl make the poofy pink skirts of her dress billow out.

“Well, Jules,” she asked, “How do I look?”

“Sparkly,” commented the other occupant of the small sitting room as she carefully tucked a pair of knives into their hidden sheaths in the sides of her shoes.

“Perfect!” Rose trilled, as she looked over herself one more time in the mirror. She was indeed very sparkly. The pink silk of her dress was studded with tiny beads in clear and pale blue, and her neck and arms were draped with bejeweled necklaces and bangles. Most were glass and cheap crystal, a couple were genuine. But both the true gems and the false were ultimately mere costuming. Only three of the pieces she wore truly meant anything.

The first was the golden ring she wore on the ring finger of her right hand. It was shaped to look like a heron in flight, with tiny sapphire eyes. It had been her father’s ring, and his father’s before that, and indeed had been the ring of every Marquis or Marchioness of Lavillant since the title had first been created almost immediately after Downfall.

The second was the bracelet around her left wrist. It was composed of tiny interlocking golden roses, beautifully worked. It was far newer than the ring, for it had been a present from Juleka on Rose’s most recent birthday.

The third was the brooch she wore, almost hidden under the glittering mass of necklaces. A small amethyst, with four delicate silver wings suggesting the shape of a moth. It wasn’t the Moth Brooch itself, of course. Not even in Rose’s wildest dreams did she ever imagine wearing _that_. But it was as close a replica as the jewelers of New Astruc could make, and that was very close indeed.

There were many at court who wore such brooches, but Rose’s was special. It had been a gift from the Emperor himself, on the day she joined his service. Though she would not officially swear her oaths to him and be confirmed as the Marchioness of Lavillant for two years and more yet, her age didn’t prevent her from serving him in other capacities.

Suddenly reminded of those duties, she turned to Juleka. “Any new instructions for tonight, Jules?” she asked.

“No specific orders,” replied Juleka. “I asked, he said to follow general instructions and use your own best judgement as to specifics.”

“Got it,” Rose said with a smile. “And keep an eye out tonight. I’ve heard three more people wishing that Princess Dupain-Cheng wasn’t in the picture, and Countess Beauréal came about _this_ close to coming right out and saying that she was looking into taking her _out_ of the picture to clear a path for _her_ daughter.”

“Got it,” Juleka said with a slight nod of her head. “I’ll pass it on when I next report in. And I’ll make sure to cover that angle tonight, as best I can. You do your work, and I’ll do mine.”

“You do your work, and I’ll do mine,” echoed Rose. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and _shifted_ her mind. The intelligence, the wit, the cunning that could read the slightest shading of emphasis or twitch of the face, took a step back and tucked itself away in the back of her mind, where it could watch and guide without being seen. And all that was left on the surface was the public Rose, a slip of a girl with a mind as bright and sparkly and ultimately worthless as the cheap jewelry with which she bedecked herself.

“Come on, Juleka!” she bubbled. “We mustn’t be late for the ball!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing_.

He reached out and pulled the bell. There was a clear chime, and a moment later the door to Marinette’s suite opened. She was clad in a rich crimson ballgown, and her hair had been let loose to fall around her face and to her shoulders.

Adrien selected what he hoped was an expression which showed an appreciation of Marinette’s beauty without shading over into lustful leering. Unfortunately, while he was quite confident in his ability to make his face say whatever he wanted it to say, he was less confident in his ability to judge how Marinette would interpret his expression.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” he said, giving her a bow suitable for one of equal rank.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” she replied, curtsying deeply.

“Please, call me Adrien,” he said, adding a friendly smile to his expression. “After all, we _are_ supposed to be getting to know each other better.”

“Very well… Adrien,” replied Marinette, her smile a bit more strained.

The two of them set off towards the ballroom.

“So, how was your afternoon?” Adrien asked after a minute.

“Well enough,” replied Marinette.

There was another awkward pause.

“How do you like your new rooms?” Adrien asked eventually. “Is there anything in particular I can get for you?”

“Actually, yes,” said Marinette. “Would it be possible for you to get me a couple of tailor’s dummies? And could I go down to the market sometime soon for fabric and thread? I have some skill in tailoring, and I would like to keep the practice up.”

“Certainly,” said Adrien, letting his pleasure that Marinette was actually conversing with him show up on his face. “Probably too late to go tonight, but you could go tomorrow.”

With Marinette in the best mood he’d seen her in yet, Adrien decided to press his luck a bit. “I could take you, if you like. Show you some of the sights of New Astruc.”

Adrien saw Marinette flinch out of the corner of his eye. “That sounds like a _wonderful_ idea,” she said, just slightly too cheerfully.

Adrien winced internally at her tone of voice, but forged on gamely. “Great! Say, I know the Flying Pig Company is doing performances of _Much To-Do About Nothing_ at their theatre. They are very good indeed, and we keep a box reserved at all times. Might you be interested?”

“Hmm…” said Marinette, her eyes sparkling, “I’m always up for Forgepound, but wouldn’t it be more appropriate to hold out for _The Tale of Felix and Bridgette_?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” replied Adrien. “The whole point of that story was that Felix and Bridgette were in love, but none of their parents would ever endorse the match. We, on the other hand, already have our various parents’ approval. It’s the other side of the equation we may have trouble with.”

On cue, Marinette’s features closed up again.

 _Plagg damn it, Father_ , thought Adrien once more. _What were you_ thinking _, forcing such a one-sided treaty down Boulangerie’s throat? Did you not listen to any of the tutors or philosophers you forced_ me _to read?_

_Marinette could be such a great Empress, if you’d only had the sense to write the treaty to make her my co-ruler upon our marriage and my ascension. She’s intelligent, charismatic, honorable, educated, everything a ruler needs._

_Not to mention that then I’d have someone to give the Moth Brooch to when you died. Ok, it’s not like you could know that I’d find the Ring of the Black Cat, but it still illustrates my point: If you’d only treated her well, then I could trust her with power and authority. She’s a good woman, raised by good parents. If we’d treated her with honor, she’d reciprocate._

_But now, she’ll have every reason to loathe me. I_ can’t _give her any real authority while you’re around, and even once I take the throne, I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust her. I’ll do my best to win her favor, of course, but it’s going to be hard. And even if I do, how will I be able to know for sure if I’ve managed to get her thinking well enough of me that she can be trusted with real power, after you’ve given her such good reasons to lash out against us?_

His brooding was interrupted by a familiar chirp of “Adrien!” from behind him. He turned around to see Rose, sparkling like a chandelier, and Juleka drifting silently in her wake.

“Hello, Rose,” he said, allowing his joy to manifest in a broad smile. “Allow me to present Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng of Boulangerie. Your Highness, this is the Lady Rose Lavillant, heir to the March of Lavillant.”

He didn’t introduce Juleka. For everyone except the handful of people purposely excluded from it, her Endowed glamour made her… not invisible, precisely, but unremarkable. People could still see her. They could even take enough notice of her presence to avoid walking into her or sitting in the chair she occupied. But unless she did something drastic to call attention to herself, she would simply blend into the background, less interesting than a chair leg or a stone in the wall.

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Marinette to Rose.

“Pleasure to meet you too!” trilled Rose as she slid into step next to Marinette. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for _so_ long now! You’re really really lucky, you know, getting to marry Adrien. There’s a lot of girls who would _literally_ kill for the chance to be where you are right now. Not me, of course!” she added hastily. “I wouldn’t try to steal him from you, let alone try and kill you to get him.“

“Not to say I haven’t had a few daydreams, and lots of dream dreams,” she added with a giggle. “The heir to the Agrestian Empire is the kind of prize that only comes along once in a generation, obviously. And then on top of that, he’s handsome, smart, and one of the nicest boys I’ve ever met. If I were in your shoes, I’d be counting the minutes to the wedding.”

Adrien suppressed a smile at the somewhat gobsmacked look on Marinette’s face. Rose’s surface persona was a bit overwhelming even when you were used to her, and Marinette had had no chance to brace herself before getting swept off her mental feet by the torrent of verbiage.

On the other hand, he hadn’t missed the hidden warning. He’d known that there were more than a few young ladies (and even more mothers, fathers, and other relatives of young ladies) that wished that his engagement to Marinette had never been contracted, or that she might somehow disappear and Adrien be once more put on the market. But he hadn’t realized that it had gotten quite as serious as Rose’s phrasing would indicate.

 _Hmm…_ he thought. _Maybe I should very publicly get into the habit of taking bites off of Marinette’s plate. Anyone who wants to remove Marinette from the marital equation will have to think twice about trying to poison her food if there’s a risk that they’ll get me instead. And anyone who might want to poison Marinette just to destabilize the Empire will be far more likely to want to poison me in the first place, so it’s not like I incur any extra risk._

“… maybe with sapphires, they would go well with your eyes,” Rose was saying, “Or some diamond barrettes, to offset your hair. We could call it a belated birthday present, since you weren’t here for your thirteenth.”

“Uh… thank you, but I really couldn’t impose on your generosity like that,” said Marinette.

“Nonsense!” retorted Rose. “You’re my future Empress, and that means I have a solemn duty to ensure you’re sufficiently sparkly for the position.” Juleka let out a little laugh from her position on Adrien’s other side, and Adrien flashed her a smile.

“And I have plenty of money,” Rose continued. “Lavillant is a major trade port, and my regent gives me a generous allowance.”

“Besides, I can chip in,” said Adrien, stepping into the conversation. “If we’re going out anyway, I might as well get you a belated birthday present of my own.”

He smiled as he spotted another familiar couple ahead. “Hello, Ivan!, Hello, Mylene!” he called out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Marinette was still reeling from Rose’s verbal onslaught when Adrien called out again. Ahead of her, two figures stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned around. One was a short but plump girl of about Marinette’s age, with braided blonde hair dyed in a wide variety of colors and a dusky pink dress with embroidery suggesting growing vines. The other was a young man who looked to be a couple of years older than his companion and who was already displaying a build that rivaled Marinette’s father. He was clad in black-trimmed yellow, with what Marinette thought was supposed to be a badger embroidered in black over his heart.

 _Stoneheart_ , memories of lessons seemed to whisper in Marinette's ear.  _Southernmost of the five Duchies of Pavonia, bordering the March of Darkblade. Extensive quarries, lead and tin mines. Conquered by Agreste early in the war. The Duke of Stoneheart was killed by Marquis Darkblade in the siege of Stoneheart the city. His son was taken to New Astruc as a hostage, came of age about six months ago, swore allegiance to Agreste and was confirmed as Duke Stoneheart._

_That must be him now._

Adrien Agreste's words confirmed her supposition. “Ivan, Mylene, allow me to present Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, of Boulangerie. Your Highness, allow me to present His Grace the Duke of Stoneheart, Ivan Bruel, and his betrothed, Lady Mylene Haprele, heir to the County of White River.”

“Pleased to meet you, Your Highness,” rumbled Bruel in a strong Pavonian accent.

“Pleased to meet you,” echoed Marinette.  

“Mylene!” trilled Lavillant. “You look so _cute_! Though I still think you should braid beads into your hair, it would go so well with your look. I might try that if I could grow out my hair without having it floof all over the place and make me look like a dandelion. Not that there’s anything wrong with dandelions, but I’m supposed to be a Rose.”

“Thank you, Rose,” said Haprele. “But Ivan likes my hair the way it is.”

“Suit yourself!” said Lavillant cheerfully. “Or rather, suit _him_ self. Hello, Kim and Chloe!”

Marinette’s nerves thrilled at that last name, and she turned to see Chloe Agreste, now clad in a cloth-of-gold dress and hanging off the arm of a rather muscular-looking young man clad in orange and yellow.

“Hello, Adrien,” said Chloe.

“Hello, Chloe,” said Adrien. “Chloe, might I present-“

Chloe cut him off with an upraised hand. “Dupain-Cheng and I have met already,” she said. “We had a nice little conversation in the baths, didn’t we?”

 _To Plagg with politeness,_ thought Marinette. She was suddenly once again aware of the Earrings in her ears and of the weight of Tikki in her hidden pocket. _Whether anyone else knows it or not, I am_ Ladybug _. And nobody, not even Chloe Agreste, gets to speak to Ladybug like she did in those baths._

“Yes, it was very educational,” she said out loud. “Adrien, is it really true that your father hasn’t spent one minute with Chloe in over a year?”

Chloe let out a squawk. Adrien’s face went studiously blank and he turned away. “So, Ivan,” he said, in a very-slightly-too-casual tone, “Did you get that ballad finished? I’ve been looking forward to hearing the whole thing.”

“Me too!” interjected Rose. “Your ballads are always so thrilling!”

“Yeah, it’s finished,” rumbled Bruel, with a surprisingly shy smile. “I talked to your father earlier, he said I could present it before dinner.”

“Yay!” said Lavillant, throwing bangle-encrusted arms up into the air. “Hi Keith and Jane!” she added to yet another couple. New faces of all ages were arriving rapidly now as Marinette and Adrien drew closer to the banquet hall and all the incoming guests converged on the one location.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The banquet hall had much the same aesthetic Marinette had noticed in other parts of the palace: High ceilings, large windows, and white walls with black trim. Bright and clean, but cold. Very appropriate for the impressions she was getting of Gabriel Agreste. Long tables ran the length of the hall, with many of the seats occupied, but at one end the floor rose into a dais, and atop that dais a much shorter table stood, set at right angles to the rest of the room and with chairs down only one side.

Gabriel Agreste was already seated in the right-hand of the two extra-large chairs at the center of that table, and Nathalie Sancouer was already seated four places to his left, at the end of the table. Adrien and Marinette made their way up to the high table, with Chloe and her arm-decoration following them.

Adrien pulled out the seat two spaces to Agreste’s right, and gestured. “Your chair, Your Highness,” he said.

“Thank you… Adrien,” replied Marinette. She glanced sideways as Adrien took his own seat between her and his father, and noted Chloe and her companion settling into the chairs between the larger empty chair and Natalie Sancouer.

“Why’s that chair empty?” she whispered to Adrien, gesturing to the larger empty chair.

“That was Mom’s chair,” Adrien whispered back. “Father keeps it empty in memory of her.”

“Ah,” Marinette whispered back.

There was a long pause while guests filed into the banquet hall. After the guests had all found their seats, Gabriel Agreste suddenly pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

“Nooroo,” he said, “bright wings rise!"

From its seat on the table, the moth kwami dissolved into a purplish streak that shot towards Agreste. There was a brilliant flash of purple-white light, and suddenly Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth. His rich purple robes had been replaced with a coat and trousers of thick fabric. The color was nearly identical to that of his robes, but Marinette thought his attire as Hawkmoth was somehow more vivid, the colors richer and more vibrant than any mere dye could produce. His head was covered by what looked like a combination mask and helmet, made from some unfamiliar silvery metal. In one hand he held a cane topped with a faceted purple gemstone.

Marinette was suddenly, horrifyingly aware of Tikki curled up in her pocket. It wasn't like she had somehow  _forgotten_ that Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth, of course. But it hadn't quite sunk in until now, until she saw him transformed into the figure of power before whom the whole world cringed in terror. Until she found herself sitting just two seats down from Hawkmoth.

She tried to remember what Tikki had assured her. That even at his full powers Nooroo could not simply sense Tikki's presence. That there were spells on the Miraculous to redirect attention, to keep anyone from connecting a Bearer's human and transformed identities. That Agreste had no reason to so much as suspect that the Earrings of the Ladybug had been found once more. It helped, a little bit. But it still took everything she had not to scream in terror or flinch away.

The banquet hall had fallen silent. Every eye was on Hawkmoth now.

“Ladies and gentlemen, nobles and honored guests,” began Agreste, “thank you for joining us tonight. Tonight, we celebrate the long-awaited arrival of my son’s betrothed, Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

Recognizing her cue, Marinette rose to a torrent of applause. She curtsied a couple of times to yet more applause before settling back into her seat.

“Duke Stoneheart has composed a ballad in honor of the occasion,” continued Hawkmoth. “Your Grace, would you come forward and share it with us?”

Bruel rose from his seat near the head of one of the lower tables and began to walk up towards the dais. Hawkmoth set down his cane, raised both hands to his mouth, then blew into his cupped hands. When he opened them again, a luminous white moth fluttered out and flapped over to meet Bruel, who raised one hand to greet it.

As soon as it touched his hand, the akuma dissolved into a shower of purple-white sparkles. A moment later, the pink moth sigil of the Agrestian Empire traced itself in lines of light in the air before his face. Marinette couldn't hold back a shudder.

Bruel smiled. “Thank you, Hawkmoth,” he said, and briefly vanished in a shower of purple sparkles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _Where in Trixx’s tails did_ that _come from?_ thought Adrien. _Ok, fine, I know that Nooroo has a weird sense of aesthetics, and can come up with some really bizarre appearances for his Endowed when Father isn’t riding herd on that aspect of the transformation. But even he doesn’t usually do something quite_ this _odd unless it’s actually part of the functionality, like that time when he gave all those men gills and fish eyes and webbed feet so they could sneak into Alixia underwater._

Ivan Bruel’s Endowed form had a bull’s head, with fur the same black as his natural hair and two impressive ivory horns. His clothing was surprisingly unaltered, but his hands had become thicker of finger, with curly black hair along the backs. Adrien half-suspected that he might have hooves or a tail to complete the look, but he couldn’t see anything below Ivan’s waist from this angle, due to the table blocking the way.

“Nooroo, bright wings fall,” said Adrien’s father. In a flash, Nooroo separated from the Brooch and fluttered down to resume his seat on the table, taking a sip of tea from his tiny cup.

Adrien’s father resumed his seat, and Ivan threw back his bull’s head and began to chant.

“I sing a song of six strange stones,

Miraculouses mystic and mighty,”

His voice had become even deeper and more resonant than before, echoing from the rafters and the far walls, yet somehow not so loud as to be overwhelming.

“Forged by forgotten fingers, saved from sudden strife,

In days of Downfall, when madness mastered men.”

Ivan’s words seemed somehow to take on shape and color. An image appeared, though Adrien couldn’t seem to tell whether it was only in his mind or actually physically drawn in midair, of Old Astruc as it once must have been, with its red walls packed to the brim with life and prosperity.

“A shining city once there stood, where we now work to rebuild,

Raised by the Republic’s ranks, wrought with rare skill,

The crown and crest of civilization, fashioned and filled with fine folk,

And blessed by the kwamis, by Tikki and Plagg approved,”

The image seemed to shift, showing now a multitude of figures in strange costumes. Ladybug and Cat Noir stood in the center, and the Five were prominent, but other Bearers, now remembered only in song and story, were there as well.

“By subtle and secret art, sacred stones were shaped,

Bridges for kwamis to cross, to walk ‘midst mortals.

In bracelet and brooch the sacred stones were set

And kwamis called, to lend mortals their Miraculous magic

For long lives of many men, the bargain held happy,

Both sides blessed, a magic most Miraculous

Kwamis walked with mortal men, the wide world seeing,

And with power they blessed their Bearers in bargain.”

The image shifted again. Now there were only two figures, larger and more detailed. One was a slender girl, whose straight black hair seemed to merge with the black leather of her suit and her fake ears and offered a startling contrast to the pale skin of her face. The other was a handsome young man, tall and well-built beneath the skintight garb of a Ladybug, with curly brown hair and bronzed skin. Both the girl’s slitted green eyes and the boy’s rich brown shone with a light that made Adrien’s heart twist, the same light that he saw in Ivan and Mylene’s eyes when they looked on each other, the same light he’d seen in his mother’s and his father’s gaze on rare occasions. The same light he knew he would never see turned on him.

“Two youths there were, scions of storied seed,

From fair Dupain, Felix, Creation’s child, Chosen of Tikki,”

Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien saw Marinette flinch. He could understand, it couldn’t be pleasant to be reminded that you were technically related to Downfall himself. Not a direct descendant, thank Tikki. As the last name indicated, Joan Dupain- _Cheng_ had been a cousin to the main Dupain line, not a child or even sibling of Felix. But even so, it was still a rather horrifying thought.

Of course, that blade had two edges. Marinette might have to live with the fact that Downfall was among her ancestors, but she could also take pride in being descended from the Dupains, from the bearers of the Earrings of the Ladybug and one of the first families of the Astrucan Republic.

“And ancient Atrum’s heir, Bridgette, Destruction’s daughter, partner to Plagg.”

Adrien had idly wished, in the past, that he could claim as great a lineage as his bride-to-be. It had never been too serious, for he loved his mother and his father was a great man, if not necessarily a good one. But now he felt a sudden and overwhelming wish that he could look at the image of Bridgette Atrum and see in her an ancestor, someone from whom he could claim descent and the right to the ring he now wore.

 _Perhaps I am descended from the Atrums,_ he thought hopefully _. They scattered far and wide after the Ring was lost in Downfall, and I’ve never traced my ancestry back beyond the third generation. Maybe I should put in some time in the archives, see if I can backtrack my lineage all the way to the Republic in any lines. Who knows who I might be able to trace my descent back to?_

“Two star-crossed lovers, whose kisses cursed creation.”

As Ivan’s chanting moved into the next verse, the images began to move like actors on a stage.

“For from feeling flowed folly, and fell fate followed.

When, we know not why, Felix pleaded for Plagg’s power,

Bridgette to her beloved’s begging bent, and her Miraculous removed.”

Felix and Bridgette were shown… discussing? Arguing?... It was hard to tell. Finally, Bridgette nodded and pulled off her ring. In a flash of green lightning, the garb of a Cat Noir was replaced with a flowing dress of black fabric, and slitted green eyes became human eyes of a peculiarly vivid shade of dark blue. Bridgette’s hand came up, offering Felix her ring.

“But no man may master two Miraculouses,

To hold one is more than enough.

Creation and Cataclysm Felix sought to contain,

But madness mastered him, and Downfall began.”

Green lightning played over Felix’s form, and his garb changed. He was now clad in a leather suit rather like that of a Cat Noir, save that it was blood-red, without any hint of black. The ears and tail of a Cat Noir were nowhere in evidence. His eyes flashed alternately green and brown, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. Green fire played around the hand that bore the Black Cat’s Ring, while the other hand was limned in pinkish light.

“From such fell fusion flowed power beyond precendent.

The mightiest of the Miraculouses, made mightier by the merger,

But such strength could not be stoppered, nor safely steered,

And destruction and distortion Downfall unleashed.”

The image zoomed out to show New Astruc being alternately scourged by bolts of green lightning and waves of red fire. Then it zoomed out again to become a map of Paree and the lands across the Southern Sea, showing pinpricks of green and red light all across the world.

“The wide world was wrecked by unrestrained power,

Madness and mayhem ‘cross the Republic ran rampant.

Barriers were broken, that should have stood solid,

And monsters brought forth, that should have never seen sunlight.”

The image shifted again. Green fire tore holes in the air, leaving behind rifts from which emerged horrifying monsters. Crimson energies twisted and warped bird and beast and plant alike, or simply flashed bizzare and distorted shapes into existence.

“But worst of all was the wrecking of the way

So long ago forged by secret spell and skill

A scant seven stones survived the scourging,

All others were severed, or so say the stories.

None know now how the horror was halted

What finally felled fell Felix Dupain.

But whether his uncontrolled power or his love’s hand,

Something surely struck, for the storm ceased at last.”

The image now displayed the wreckage of what looked like part of the Agrestian palace. A young blonde woman, recognizable despite her attire and disheveled appearance as Joan Dupain-Cheng, pushed open a door and ventured out into the hallway.

“Neither Bridgette nor Felix was ever again seen,

And the Black Cat’s Ring vanished with them.

But Joan, Dupain’s cousin, the Earrings found,

Sitting on stone, amidst wreckage and rubble.”

 _Well, now we know at least part of the rest of the story,_ thought Adrien. _At least one of the two must have survived to move the Ring, and it was almost certainly Bridgette. Felix wouldn’t have left the Earrings behind. So either Downfall destroys himself with his own powers, or else… or else Bridgette stopped him somehow, and destroyed the body after he was stopped._

_Either way, Bridgette takes the Ring, but leaves the Earrings behind where she knows one of Felix’s relatives will find them. She disappears into the Undercity, and then she hid the Ring in that room I found it in and set a Plaggian akuma to guard it, before somehow vanishing so completely that nobody ever found so much as her body._

_Could she have turned herself_ into _that akuma I ran across? It behaved rather oddly for an akuma, and it must have lasted a very long time indeed._ Can _humans be turned into akumas? I’ve never heard of such a thing. I suppose I can ask Plagg. He might remember what Bridgette did, and at the very least he’d know what can and can’t be done with his powers._

Ivan’s chanting ended in an explosion of applause, and Adrien realized that he’d missed the last few verses of the song while lost in his own head. Ivan bowed and vanished into a roiling mass of purple-white energy as the akuma separated from him, fluttering through the air to merge with Nooroo in a flash of light.

After the applause was finished and Ivan was back in his seat, Adrien’s father rose to his feet.

“Thank you, Duke Stoneheart,” he said. “And now, let the feast begin!”

Once again, the rafters of the banquet hall rang with applause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter got a little away from me. The longest yet, and I still didn't cover everything I'd planned to cover in this chapter.
> 
> Tune in next time, where we shall meet a few more characters, and hopefully Ladybug and Cat Noir shall meet for the first time in a very long time.


	4. Cataclysm

The rest of the dinner was every bit as awkward as Adrien had feared it would be. Marinette ate her food mechanically, seeming to have no idea what she was putting in her mouth beyond that it was edible. When Adrien attempted conversation, she responded with short monotone answers. In the end, he gave up and retreated back into his own thoughts.

_ Suppose I can’t blame her, _ he thought.  _ Seeing Father in his glory like that has got to be terrifying. It’s a bit creepy for me, and I’m his son. She grew up afraid of him, and now she’s just been reminded just how much power the man she’s lived her life in terror of wields. That can’t be comfortable. _

_ And I  _ am _ his son. More than that, I’m the living symbol of his power over her. She has to marry me because my father has forced her to it, and for no other reason. So I am going to have to go dance with a young lady who has just been reminded what excellent reasons she has to loathe and fear me. _

_ Thanks a lot, Father. _

Finally, the meal came to an end. Gabriel rose to his feet again, announced that dinner was over and dancing would now begin, and instructed everyone to proceed through the double doors on the far side of the dining hall.

Adrien and Marinette rose to their feet, but the press of bodies in the main hall kept them from descending from the dais just yet. Instead, there was nothing Adrien could do but stare awkwardly and Marinette and try to keep his expression polite.

Finally, the crowd emptied out. Adrien offered Marinette his hand, and she took it with a rather queasy expression. Gabriel Agreste either didn’t notice or didn’t care about Marinette’s expression, for Adrien noticed a quiet smile of satisfaction on his father’s face before he turned and headed down off the dais.

_ Tikki, please help tonight turn out alright. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Agrestian ballroom, rather to Marinette’s surprise, departed from the standard Agrestian design aesthetic. Instead of the harsh black-and-white styling used elsewhere in the palace, the ballroom had been paneled with rich woods and brass, and along one wall were the traditional seven massive stained-glass windows showing the Two and Five, backlit by limelights or some such.

“Mother insisted on something more vibrant for this room,” explained Adrien out of the corner of his mouth.

“Ah,” Marinette whispered back. “It’s very nice… Is that supposed to be your father, in the Nooroo window?”

“Yes,” Adrien whispered back with a wry grin. “A bit over-the-top, I suppose, but Father gets that way sometimes.”

As they stepped out onto the dance floor, Marinette amused herself by picturing her own features replacing the faceless Ladybug in Tikki’s window.

_ It would certainly look beautiful. One day, maybe…Oops, here we go. _

From off to one side, the steady beat of a drum began, and other instruments came in behind them.

Marinette turned to face Adrien and took his upraised hands in her own, and let long years of practice in classical dancing kick in.

_ One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, one-two-spin, one-two-spin… _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien had been a little worried about this part. There was a reason that dancing was one of the symbolic activities of lovers, for it required both excellent coordination and complete trust. Marinette would have to trust Adrien enough to follow his lead, and Adrien would have to trust that Marinette  _ would _ follow his lead, and if either of them flinched they’d almost certainly end up crashing or tripping.

But Marinette followed his lead perfectly through three straight dances, until near the end of the third Adrien was panting slightly and beaming with genuine happiness.

“Can we sit out the next song, please?” said an equally breathless Marinette.

“Certainly, Your Highness” said Adrien with a smile. They shaped their dance towards the edge of the dance floor, and at the end of the song they spun out of the whirl of dancers. Marinette dropped into a chair, and Adrien took his seat next to her. There was a moment’s pause while they both caught their breath, and Adrien was just opening his mouth to speak when two new figures slipped out of the mass of dancers. One was Alya Cesaire, clad in an elegant silk dress in white-trimmed orange with the fox rampant of Sapotis on the breast. Around her neck was a replica of the Fox Pendant. The other… if Adrien hadn’t known her by sight, he’d have thought her a man. She was clad in a man’s suit in yellow-edged black, and her candy-pink hair was cut short and choppy.

_ Alix Kubdel _ , thought Adrien.  _ Plagg’s black claws _ .

As far as Adrien could tell, the young scion of House Kubdel didn’t actually share Cesaire’s focused hatred of Adrien’s father. Rather, Kubdel hated all men, and despised any woman who didn’t share her hatred. But that didn't make her any less dangerous, and what Adrien’s father had done would strike directly at the cracks in Alix Kubdel’s already shaky psyche. Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien saw Juleka’s hand fall to the buckle of her sash, which Adrien knew held a concealed knife.

He rose to his feet. “Princess Dupain-Cheng, may I present…”

“Alya and I are already acquainted,” said Marinette, blushing prettily. “I don’t know her… partner, though.”

“In that case,” said Cesaire, “allow me to make the introductions. Alix, this is Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng of Boulangerie. Marinette, this is Lady Alix Kubdel.”

Marinette’s face went as red as her dress. “Lady Alix Kubdel?” she squeaked, before dropping her gaze to her lap. Adrien was a little surprised at the extent of her reaction. People usually didn’t find just being in the presence of a honeylove that embarrassing. Had Kubdel made advances on her earlier? Or maybe Cesaire?

“Ah, Agreste,” said Cesaire with a smirk, “Do you think you could let us have a little privacy? Go dance with one of your courtly puffs?”

“No!” squeaked Marinette. “I mean,” she continued in a more regular tone of voice, “I don’t think that will be necessary, Adrien. I don’t have anything to say at the moment that I would mind you knowing about.”

“Hey, no need to freak out, girl,” said Cesaire, plopping into the seat on Marinette’s other side. “I don’t bite.” A disturbingly vulpine grin flashed across her face. “Unless you ask me to, of course.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands and made a squeaking noise.

Cesaire, surprisingly, blushed. “Sorry, Marinette,” she said in a lower tone. “Look, I didn’t mean to come on too hard. I promise, I’ll behave in the future.”

Marinette raised her head, the blush fading a bit from her cheeks. “T-thanks,” she stuttered.

As if on cue, Chloe came striding towards them, Le Chien hanging on her arm.

“Well, well,” said Chloe, smirking, “I should have known I’d find Dupain-Cheng and Cesaire together. Adrikins, did I tell you earlier about how I caught these two in the bath together?”

“Hey, I didn’t ask her to climb in with me!” blurted out Marinette, before turning bright red again and burying her face in her hands.

Before either Cesaire or Chloe could say anything, Adrien rose to his feet and turned to address Marinette. “Marinette, do you feel up to dancing another round? There’s a new song starting.”

“Yes, please!” squeaked Marinette, and practically dragged him out onto the dance floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t until halfway through the dance, when she’d had a moment to cool down, that Marinette began to regret her actions. Judging by the looks, there was no love lost between Kubdel and Agreste, and she might have just missed a chance to recruit a valuable ally. Not to mention the hurt she might have done to her fledgling friendship with Cesaire.

Still, she could always make up for that later. Time was something she had in abundance just now, and neither she nor Cesaire nor Kubdel was going anywhere. No, what really galled her at the moment was that she’d ended up in the arms of Adrien Agreste again.

_ I need to get out of here, _ she thought.  _ Just for a few minutes, just long enough to catch my breath away from Agreste. If I don’t, I am going to do something that I will seriously regret later. _

“A-Adrien,” she said, remembering at the last moment not to call him “Agreste” to his face, “Is there anywhere I could take a breather after this dance? I think I need to cool down a bit.”

“The garden’s through those doors,” said Agreste, nodding his head towards a set of doors that flanked the massive stained-glass windows. “Can’t guarantee it’ll be private, though. I’ve seen more than one couple slip out there already.”

“Thank you,” said Marinette, trying to keep from betraying the artificiality of her smile. “I just need a moment to catch my breath, and I’m sure you have other people to talk to tonight.”

Agreste nodded slightly. “As you wish, Your Highness,” he said.

And indeed, when that song came to an end, Agreste spun her off the dance floor right next to the doors to the garden.

“There are one or two young ladies of the court whom I wish to claim for a dance,” said Agreste with a smirk, “But after that I believe I shall talk to my father for a time.” He jerked his head towards where Gabriel Agreste sat off to one side, surrounded by his henchmen and sycophants. “You’ll find me there when you’ve finished catching your breath.” He bowed over her hand and turned away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien made his way around the edge of the ballroom, looking for Rose. He made it a point of policy to dance with Rose precisely  _ once _ at each of these events. Two or more dances in a single evening would be an inappropriate amount of attention, as he was betrothed to another. But one dance at every ball would simply mark Rose as having the Crown Prince’s favor, and that was an asset she could make good use of. Not to mention that in the event of Marinette being assassinated or running off or cuckolding him (or his father having a spontaneous attack of compassion and cancelling the forced marriage), this would lay the groundwork for him to take Rose as his Empress. 

While Adrien would concede that he wasn’t likely to find another woman who would be as valuable an Empress as Marinette, Rose would come a very close second. She was already of appropriate rank and social status, he and his father trusted her loyalty just about absolutely, and not only she was far smarter than she cared to appear, her skills and abilities would complement his excellently. He would play the straightforward ruler, blunt and stoical and unsophisticated. And Rose in turn would play the sparkly courtly puff, the fluffy consort who cared for nothing but parties and entertainment and gossip and hadn’t a true thought in her head, while in truth her first-class wits would be analyzing, catalouging, and manipulating everything. It would be a good combination.

As for the more … personal aspect, Rose had certainly expressed interest in the idea when Adrien had hinted at the possibility, and Adrien didn’t think he was likely to find someone he’d prefer to Rose among the pool of potential brides. Adrien and Rose weren’t in love, not the way Mylene and Ivan loved each other, or the way Adrien’s mother and father had been in love, but they did like each other. And, course, Adrien was a tolerably normal teenage male, and Rose was quite pretty. Not as curvy as, say, Mylene, but Adrien was finding that he preferred the slender type anyway. Lust and friendship might not be love, but they’d make a decent enough substitute.

Abruptly, Adrien heard a distinctive squee of joy cut through the background chatter. He cut through the crowd, arriving just in time to see Rose release Kagami Tsirugi from a rib-creaking hug.

“Well, well,” said Adrien with a smile. “Hello, Kagami. Good news?”

Kagami turned to face Adrien, and gave him a quick bow. “Very much so, Your Highness,” she said.

“Marquis Darkblade just agreed to take Kagami on as his squire!” squealed Rose, throwing up her hands and scattering gleams of light everywhere from her bangle-encrusted wrists.

“Congratulations, Kagami,” said Adrien, permitting himself a genuine smile. This was what Kagami had been dreaming of for years. Not only was Marquis Darkblade one of the Empire’s foremost nobles, he was also one of its greatest heroes. He had been one of the  _ founding members _ of the Moth Guard, and had served as one of Gabriel Agreste’s greatest generals for over a decade, leading conquest after conquest. To serve as his squire was a mark of high distinction indeed.

“Thank you,” said Kagami, running one hand over the hilt of the katana she carried at her side. Such weapons were a rarity here in Paree, but  _ Kazeofuku _ was an heirloom, the one treasure Kagami’s grandfather had been able to bring with him when he landed on the shores of Papillion.

That memory sparked a sudden chain of thought in Adrien’s mind. “You know, Kagami,” he said, shifting his smile from “friendly” to “fierce”, “I’ve been thinking. Father gathered the legions around the capitol as a precaution, in case the Dupain-Chengs decided to go to war rather than sending Princess Marinette. But they won’t go to war now, not with Marinette  _ here _ , in New Astruc. And I don’t think Father will be sending Marquis Darkblade out against Volpinium any time soon. The Rossis are consummate survivors. They’ll bend the knee, save what they can of their power. So who  _ will _ Father be sending the legions and that shiny new fleet he’s building against?”

Kagami’s smile shifted into a grin as narrow and sharp as the edge of her ancestral blade. While Kagami herself, and even her father, had been born in Papillion, Kagami still saw herself as a child of fallen Tertullian. Ever since she was a girl, Kagami had dreamed of sailing east beneath the moth banner, as part of an Imperial army sent to drive back the Achu tribes and reclaim the lands of the Turtle Kingdom. And now that moment was almost at hand. Sapotis was fallen, Boulangerie quiescent for the moment, Volpinium would soon bow the knee, and none of the remaining edge kingdoms were worth the tenth part of the forces Gabriel Agreste was mustering. Only the Achu remained to secure the Empire’s immediate borders. 

And if the legions sailed east, Kagami would now sail with them. For who better than Marquis Darkblade to command such an expedition? And as the Marquis’s squire, Kagami would go where he went.

Off to one side, the musicians struck up another song. Adrien turned to Rose and bowed deeply. “May I have this dance?” he asked.

“I would be delighted, Your Grace,” replied Rose, dropping into a curtsey. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From his chair, Gabriel Agreste saw Adrien step out onto the dance floor with Lavillant. He sighed slightly. While it wasn’t  _ technically  _ inappropriate for Adrien to dance a single dance with someone other than his betrothed, it was still something of a slight against Dupain-Cheng. Or more likely, a way for Adrien to protest the forced betrothal.

Gabriel wished he could explain his actions to Adrien, but that would ruin years of careful maneuvering. His own reputation was tarnished beyond repair, and would have been even if he had done nothing more than reunite Papillion and Pavonia under his banner, even if he had not bullied Boulangerie into signing that treaty and conquered Sapotis. That was the double-edged sword of politics. Only a tyrant could have done what needed to be done to reunite the realms, but that same tyranny would deny his rule legitimacy.

But Adrien… Adrien’s genuine (and increasingly open) disapproval of his father’s methods would insulate both his honor and his reputation from Gabriel’s cruelties and tyrannies. By the time Adrien took the throne, the years would have made Gabriel’s actions impossible to undo. Adrien would reap what he had not sown: An Empire united under one banner and one law, a marriage and children with the Dupain girl, the madness of Downfall finally healed. And Adrien in turn would give the Empire the one thing Gabriel would never be able to: legitimacy. An Emperor who ruled not first and foremost by the power of the sword, but by the weight of law and the silent accumulation of tradition.

But for this to work, Adrien  _ had  _ to remain ignorant of what Gabriel was trying to do. Only that ignorance could permit Adrien to maintain that genuine distaste for his father’s methods that would be so crucial to establishing his own legitimacy without driving him to the point where he made an open and formal break with his father and forswore his rank. If Adrien consciously realized what Gabriel was trying to do for him, he would either have to accept his father’s methods, even if only in his own mind, or else he would have to make a stand and refuse to reap the benefits of his father’s sins.

_ It seems that Adrien and Dupain-Cheng are well in hand for the nonce,  _ he thought. _ Perhaps now I can spare some time to make Chloe into something a little more worthy of her mother’s blood. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette sighed as she rested her arms on the stone railing of the little patio, gazing out into the darkness. The brilliant white blaze of the limelights reflected off the walls behind her to illuminate the spreading gardens, casting long shadows out over the lawn. She could see a few couples roaming the moonlight gardens, enjoying the cool night air. Gradually, her nerves and frustration drained away, replaced by calm acceptance.

_ This is my life now, _ she thought.  _ Might as well get used to it. _

“Princess Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette glanced up to see a slender blonde girl in a pale blue dress standing just behind and to her left.

“Yes?” she replied.

“Aurore Beaureal, heir to the County Beaureal,” said the girl. 

_ House Beaureal: _ Marinette’s memory prompted.  _ One of the smallest of Papillion’s Counties by land, but extremely wealthy. Silver mines, extensive artisan guilds almost untouched by the war, central position controlling several valuable trade routes. Current Head of House is the Comtesse Audrey Beaureal. One of the first to swear to Agreste, major player in Imperial politics. _

“I just wanted to introduce myself, and… well, I have an… alliance, of sorts, to discuss with you.”

“What do you mean?” asked Marinette.

“Well,” said Aurore, “It’s not exactly a secret that you and your parents are, shall we say,  _ less than happy _ with your betrothal to Prince Agreste.” She blushed slightly, “I, on the other hand, would very much like to be the Princess Agreste. So I want to seduce Adrien, and you presumably want Adrien to be seduced. I was hoping we could work together.”

Marinette sighed and smiled ruefully up at Aurore. “I actually do appreciate the offer,” she said, “but I’m afraid it wouldn’t help. I’ve looked over the treaty, and it doesn’t contain any provisions for annulling or cancelling the marriage.”

“That’s peculiar,” said Aurore. “You mean that even if Adrien’s caught in bed with another woman you still have to marry him?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” said Marinette. “It’s not exactly fair, but I suspect you already knew that.”

She laughed, surprising even herself. “Still, feel free to try and seduce young Agreste. Maybe if you can get him to fall in love with you, he’ll let me go and remarry to you once his father dies.”

_ Or maybe, by the time the marriage comes round, Tikki and I will be strong enough to make conquering Boulangerie more trouble than it’s worth,  _ thought Marinette.  _ And in that case, Adrien getting caught in some other woman’s bed might be just the excuse we need to break the treaty. _

“Now might be a good time to make your move, actually,” she remarked. “I think I’m going to be out here another round or two, and Adrien mentioned he was looking for partners to fill the gap.”

“Understood,” said Aurore with a wink. She spun on her heel and disappeared back into the ballroom. Marinette turned back to the gardens. For a moment, she entertained the fantasy of transforming into Ladybug and running off into the darkness, but she knew that she couldn’t take that risk. Even if nobody spotted her transforming, she would be missed from the party. She could stay out here another few minutes, but any longer than that would be an insult.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Ugh, _ thought Marinette much later that night, after the dancing was over and she was back in her room.  _ This has been the most stressful day  _ ever _. I seriously need some time to blow off steam. _

_ Thank Tikki my quarters have a balcony.  _ She suppressed the temptation to giggle at the idea of Ladybug thinking what she’d just thought, and then carefully scanned the courtyard.

_ Ok, there are Moth Guards on the walls, but not too many of them. And if I remember my lessons correctly, they don’t get any major sensory boosts. I should be able to get up onto the roof without too much trouble, and once I’m up there it should be easy enough to get over the walls. _

She ducked back into her room, glanced around once more to make sure nobody was watching, and whispered, “Tikki, spots on.” The world vanished in a shower of pink sparkles, and she felt the clear, cool energy of the Ladybug magic flow into her. She slipped out onto her balcony, crouched low to the ground, and tossed her yo-yo up. It wrapped around a protrusion and pulled her up onto the roof. She dashed across the roof, feeling the rough stone through the thin fabric of her suit’s feet, came to the edge of the palace, and leapt. She went flying through the air, shooting over the palace courtyard and wall. As she plummeted toward the street on the other side, her yo-yo lashed out, snagging on a balcony to turn her plummet into an arc that sent her back into the air. And then she was off, leaping from roof to roof and occasionally swinging on her yo-yo.

It was a clear night, and between the stars and a half moon she had plenty of light to see where she was going. Not that she had anywhere in specific she wanted to go. She barely knew New Astruc, and there was certainly nobody in the city that she could trust with the news that the Ladybug Earrings had been found once more. Not even Alya, not yet. No, tonight was simply about freedom, about dancing under Moon and feeling the Ladybug magic flowing through her, reminding herself of who and what she now was.

_ Oh Tikki, I needed this, _ she thought.  _ I’m going to need this more than I ever realized before tonight. By day, I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng, hostage and bedwarmer-to-be. But by night, I can – WAAUGGH! _

Even by the light of Moon and stars, she hadn’t spotted the black-clad figure until about half a second before she collided with him. A couple of very confusing seconds later, she was dangling upside down, wrapped up in her own yo-yo cord.

_ Well, _ she thought,  _ this is embarrassing. Actually, strike that, this is  _ really _ embarrassing. Not only did I run into whoever this is like a clumsy fool, but now I’m pressed up against a strange man while clad only in a very thin, skintight suit… _

At that moment, her thoughts ground to a halt as she finally took note of the eyes staring into her own. Those were not human eyes. Even in this half-light, she could see that they were solid green, with broadly slitted pupils. She had seen those eyes a hundred times in pictures and paintings and had never expected to see them in the flesh.

“Well hey there,” said Cat Noir with a broad smile, “Nice of you to drop in.”

“I-I’m sorry,” said Marinette. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Ladybug, right?” said Cat Noir, wriggling against her in a most distracting manner.

“Right!” blurted out Marinette, trying to ignore the fact that Cat Noir was rubbing his leather-clad body against her. “And, uh, you must be Cat Noir!”

“Indeed I am,” he replied. At that moment, her yo-yo came loose from whatever it had caught on, dropping the both of them on their heads. Marinette’s yo-yo retracted, zipping over and under her until it finally smacked into her palm. She rolled away from Cat Noir and sprang to her feet, trying to keep from visibly blushing.

“So,” she said, “I hadn’t heard that the Ring had been found again. How long have you had it?”

“Just a few days, actually,” said Cat Noir with a smile. “You?”

“Not much longer,” admitted Marinette. “Only a few weeks.”

“I see,” said Cat Noir. “So why did you keep it secret? If you’d revealed that you had rediscovered the Earrings of the Ladybug, you would have instantly had fame and fortune for the rest of your life.”

“No doubt,” replied Marinette, “but do you think for one instant I’d have been allowed to  _ keep _ them? No amount of fame or fortune could make up for losing Tikki. And Gabriel Agreste has done enough damage with just the Moth Brooch. I shudder to think what he might do if he had the Earrings as well.”

Cat Noir visibly winced. “I wish I could argue with that, but I don’t think I can,” he admitted. “Gabriel Agreste is a great man, and I owe him quite literally everything, but unfortunately a great man is not necessarily the same thing as a good one. It’s the same reason I kept the Ring a secret when I found it.”

“Someone’s coming, Milady,” he said, and leapt up onto a nearby rooftop. She followed, and they both lay there, crouched flat. A few moments later, she heard distinctly off-tune singing in the distance, and shortly after that she saw a trio of figures, slightly wobbly in the knees, come down the street and turn in a couple of houses up from the one where they lay crouched.

“So,” asked Cat Noir in a whisper, once one of the trio had disappeared into the house and the other two had rounded the corner, “What brings you to New Astruc?”

Marinette smiled despite herself. “Let’s just say… I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse,” she said. “What about you?”

“My father… works here,” said Cat Noir slowly. “I wasn’t born here, but we moved to the city not long after it was refounded.”

Marinette suppressed a giggle at the odd dance of words between the two of them. Understandably, neither wanted to test the limits of the glamour that guarded their identities by saying anything too specific. But though the reticence was understandable, it did make it hard to get to know this Cat Noir.

And she did want to get to know him. She hadn’t quite realized until tonight how important being able to become Ladybug, to be free even for a few hours of all the fears and responsibilities and constraints of her position, was going to be to her now. And she certainly hadn’t realized how much she would want someone whom she could share that other life with, someone who could know her and be known by her as Ladybug.

“So,” she asked, “do you have any siblings?”

Cat Noir turned away. “One,” he said to empty space, “A sister. We used to be great friends when we were younger, but she’s grown into… well, a brat. Our father spoils and neglects her at the same time, and our mother is… not around anymore.”

Marinette winced. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” said Cat Noir. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

“Well…” said Marinette slowly. How was she supposed to describe her family without giving away who she truly was?

“I don’t have any siblings,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Just me and my parents. My mom’s very… elegant. She loves me and cares for me, but there’s always a certain dignity about her. My father’s the funny one, the one who does shadow puppets on the wall or dumps flour all over himself when he’s trying to teach me baking.”

“It was always the other way around for me and my sister,” said Cat Noir, still not looking at her. “My father was always busy with his work, barely had time for us. It was my mother who cared for us, raised us, loved us…” He trailed off.

Marinette managed to avoid flinching at the pain in his voice, but it was a near thing. There were no words that could help here. Not even her Miracle would heal that wound. All she could do was simply be there, and wait for him to recover on his own.

For a long moment, she simply lay there, one hand resting on his shoulder. And then the night was rent by the sound of alarm bells, coming from the direction.

She sprang to her feet, yo-yo already spinning. “Well,” she said hastily, “I’d better be going.”

“Likewise,” said Cat Noir. “See you later, Milady.”

And he dashed off into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“MASTER! MASTER!”

Gabriel Agreste was jolted out of a deep sleep by the sound of his kwami screaming in his ear. He rolled over, and adrenaline jolted his brain into action. Nooroo was hovering by his bedside, bobbing frantically up and down in midair and with the spiral on his forehead blazing with purple-white light. One of Agreste’s Endowed needed to speak to him  _ urgently _ . And coupled with the alarm bells that had just started sounding, he knew that something had just gone spectacularly wrong.

“Nooroo!” he barked. “Bright wings rise!”

The transformation cleared his mind the rest of the way, and the countless connections the Moth Brooch offered spread out before his mind’s eye. One of those links was lit up like a bonfire, and Gabriel plunged into it.

_ -the blow struck him in the breastplate like a battering ram, halting him in mid-charge and knocking him back off his feet. The attacker stared down at him, his face inscrutable behind that featureless silver mask. He scrabbled backwards on all fours, trying to get out of touching range. His gauntleted hand struck the shaft of his dropped halberd, and he grabbed the weapon and staggered to his feet. Behind him he heard the tramp of armored feet as Moth Guards and other soldiers rushed along the wall and across the courtyard, and the clangor of the alarm bells. _

_ The attacker paused, that featureless silver mask regarding wall and gate. Then he turned and leapt backwards like a gigantic cricket, vanishing into the darkness just as the postern flew open and a score or so of Moth Guards poured out. _

Gabriel pushed the link further, going from observation to communication. “Report, Sir Thornton,” he said. “What has happened? And where is your partner?”

Sir Thornton took a deep breath. Gabriel could feel his horror and confusion secondhand. Whatever was going on here had been quite a shock. Around him, the Guards’ questions had been cut off when they saw the Pink Moth sigil appear in front of their comrade’s faceplate.

“Your Majesty,” said Sir Thornton aloud. “Everyone. Moments ago, an unknown person approached this gate. On being challenged, he refused to provide his name or purpose. Instead, he attacked and killed Louis.” Another deep breath. “With a Cataclysm.”

_ Plagg’s black claws, _ thought Gabriel. He had to stifle a morbid laugh at the irony of his own instinctive response. Sir Thornton wordlessly offered his memories of the event for Gabriel’s inspection, and Gabriel sent him a brief flash of gratitude. He didn’t doubt his Guard’s veracity or sanity, but listening to someone else describe their experience could never be quite compare to reviewing the experience himself. He braced himself, and dived into the memories.

_ He was gazing out into the darkness with half his attention. He didn’t really expect anything to happen, but someone had to take the night watch, and it was his and Louis’s turn. _

_ “… so yeah, she’s doing really well for herself,” he was saying to Louis. “Handmaid to a Marchioness, spending half her time rubbing shoulders with nobility… who knows, maybe one day she’ll catch the eye of…” _

_ He stopped as he spotted a flash of light on metal at the edge of the torch’s light. He grabbed his halberd from where it leaned against the wall and snapped to attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Louis doing the same. “Who goes there?” he barked. _

_ From the darkness, a figure emerged. The figure was tall and broad of shoulder, a man’s build. He was clad from head to toe in a suit of leather, either black or dark red, it was impossible to tell which in this light. The only exceptions were the featureless silver mask, without eyes or mouth, that flashed from under that hood and the weapon in his hand, a pair of gleaming metal batons linked by a short length of chain. _

_ The figure said nothing in response to his challenge, simply striding forward. _

_ “Halt!” said Louis, stepping forward with one hand extended, almost touching the intruder’s leather-clad chest. “State your name and business here.” _

_ The intruder stopped. His head tilted slightly as though he were contemplating Louis’s extended hand, and then he spoke for the first time. His voice echoed oddly, as though multiple people were speaking in not-quite-perfect synchronization, but the word was still terrifyingly clear. _

_ “Cataclysm!” _

_ The stranger’s hand flashed forward like lightning to slap against Louis’s breastplate, and corruption flashed out like fire burning through paper. Metal rusted away to nothingness, and below that flesh withered to dust. For a fraction of a second Louis’s skeleton stood there, suspended in midair where his body had been just before. And then the bones fell to the ground, exploding into powder as they hit the stones. _

_ “ATTACK!” bellowed Hugo. He dropped his halberd, he was already too close to use it effectively. Instead he whipped out his sword and swung at the attacker’s head with all his Brooch-granted strength. “HELP! HELP! ATTACK!” he yelled as he swung. The stranger ducked under the blow and then swiped with his own weapon. The chain elongated impossibly, new links appearing out of nowhere to allow the chain to wrap around his sword repeatedly. With a surge of strength as far beyond Hugo’s as Hugo was beyond an unenhanced human, the intruder ripped the sword out of Hugo’s hand and flung it away into the darkness. _

_ The intruder’s weapon shifted back to its original proportions, links of chain disappearing back to wherever they’d come from in the first place. In the distance, Roger could hear the crash of the alarm bells and the shouts as others took up the cry of “ATTACK!”. He lunged forward, gauntleted fist raised to smash in the intruder’s masked face. That weapon swung and- _

Gabriel pulled back out of the memories, recognizing the moment when he’d linked in.

_ Tikki and Plagg, that  _ was _ Cat Noir, _ he thought.  _ How in Plagg’s whiskers did someone find the Ring of the Black Cat after all these years? And  _ why _ did he decide to announce himself by killing one of my guards? If he hated me that much, surely the logical thing to do would be to sneak past the Guards and go after me or my… _

Another link lit up, requesting his attention. With horror, he recognized the link.

_ …son…  _ he finished the thought, as he dived into the link to his son’s bodyguard. Through the bodyguard’s eyes, he saw what he had half expected, and desperately hoped  _ not _ to see.

His son’s room was empty. Adrien was nowhere to be seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as he heard the alarms go off, Adrien knew he was going to get caught out of bed. The Gorilla would proceed to his bedroom, find him not there, and promptly alert his father. But if he hurried, he might yet be able to at least keep his status as Cat Noir hidden. From the rooftop, it was only a short dash to a certain spot he’d discovered weeks before, where one of the Undercity tunnels let out onto the Nikeldan not far downstream from the palace complex. Between his now-boosted speed and reflexes, and his new night-vision, he made his way through the tunnels in a fraction of the time he’d ever taken before. Soon he was crouched just behind a grating that would let out into the palace’s wine cellar.

“Plagg,” he whispered, “claws in.” The fiery energies of the transformation drained away, and a veil of blackness fell over his sight. He felt rather than saw the cat-kwami burrow into his vest pocket and unwrap the wax-coated cheese wheel Adrien had stashed there earlier. A few moments later, Plagg ceased his gyrations, having presumably acquired his prize and settled down to rest.

_ Here goes nothing, _ Adrien thought, and pushed out the grating. He wriggled out into the narrow gap behind one of the massive tuns, and from there crawled out into more open space. He took a moment to catch his breath and get into the right headspace, then made a dash for the barely-visible stairs near the end of the cellar. He scrambled up the stairs into the great kitchen, and dashed out into the courtyard.

It was a scene of controlled chaos. The alarms were still chiming, and Moth Guards and other soldiers were darting this way and that. The Pink Moth flashed in and out of existence in front of various faces.

Adrien ran up to a nearby Moth Guard and carefully tapped him on the couter.

“Excuse me, Sir,” he said, “But what’s going on?”

The Guard jumped. “Your Highness!” he exclaimed. “Does your father know… No, of course not. Just a moment.” A second later, the Pink Moth lit up in the air in front of his faceplate.

“Your Majesty, I’ve found your son,” he said. “He doesn’t seem to be hurt. We’re right by the entrance to the kitchens.” The Pink Moth winked out, and the Guard looked down at Adrien.

“Well, Your Highness,” he said, “You gave your father quite a fright. I think he’s going to be torn about whether to be relieved that you’re unharmed, or angry at you for disappearing like that.”

“I didn’t  _ mean _ to…” Adrien began to say, but he was interrupted by a shout of “Adrien!”

Adrien turned around just in time for his father, clad in the mask and robes of a Hawkmoth, to sweep him into the tightest hug he could remember getting in many years.

“Oh Adrien, thank Tikki you’re alive,” murmured Gabriel Agreste into his son’s hair. Then he grabbed Adrien by the shoulders, pushed him out to arm’s length, and glared down at him. “But what were you  _ thinking _ , running off like that? You know that when an alarm sounds, you’re supposed to stay in your room and wait for your bodyguard unless you’re in immediate danger. You’re not supposed to go running off on your own, especially when you have no idea what’s going on.”

“I wasn’t  _ in _ my room when the alarm was sounded,” retorted Adrien. “I couldn’t sleep, so I snuck down into the Undercity. It’s a good place to think, and I thought doing some exploring might burn off my nerves. As soon as I heard the alarm bells, I got back to the surface as fast as I could manage.”

For a long moment, green eyes met and held purple-tinted gray. Then Gabriel Agreste looked away, sighed, and let go of Adrien’s shoulders.

“You’re right,” he said. “You couldn’t have known this would happen. Tikki and Plagg, I can barely believe it  _ did _ happen…” He shook his head. “Sir Mûre, could you please escort my son back up to his rooms?”

“Yessir,” said the Moth Guard. “If you would follow me, Your Highness?” he added to Adrien.

Adrien nodded and followed the Guard across the courtyard.

“So,” he asked as they passed into the Palace complex, “What  _ did _ happen?”

“Plagg only knows,” said Sir Mûre. “All I’ve been told is that someone attacked and killed one of us on watch duty. And that whoever it is has the Black Cat’s Ring.”

“ _ What? _ ” Adrien blurted out.

“I know, I can hardly believe it myself. But one of the gate guards survived, and he saw Cat Noir use Cataclysm on his partner with his own eyes.”

Adrien called on every ounce of his deportment training to keep his expression under control. He knew that he hadn’t totally succeeded, but some level of reaction to such a surprise was understandable. Inside, however, his mind was racing.

_ What in Plagg’s black claws  _ happened _ tonight? I know  _ I _ didn’t kill that man, so who did? And how? And more than that, how am I supposed to prove it wasn’t me? My secret’s safe for now, but I’m going to have to be insanely careful until I find out who really killed that man, and figure out how to prove it. _

_ Plagg and I are going to have a very long talk once the alarms die down a bit… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the one hand, Ladybug and Cat Noir have finally met, and hit it off pretty well. On the other, a new horror has surfaced, and Cat Noir appears to have been framed for attacking his father's Guards!
> 
> Tune in next time to see how Marinette reacts to the news, and what happens the next day!


	5. Fallout

_ Why did it have to be the palace that got hit? How in Plagg’s whiskers am I supposed to get back in now? _

The Agrestian palace was on high alert. Moth Guards in full plate were patrolling the walls in double or triple strength, more were drawn up in the courtyard, and torches and lanterns lit up the night.

_ Ok, _ thought Marinette from where she lay flat on a rooftop.  _ No way I can get past that many Guards without being spotted, even with Ladybug magic and luck. I can’t just wait for the furor to die down, that could take hours. And every minute I’m not in my assigned quarters increases the risk of someone coming to look for me and wondering where I’ve got to. Obviously I can’t detransform, I’d have to explain how Marinette Dupain-Cheng managed to slip her leash. I need a miracle. _

_ Or rather… _

Marinette rolled off the roof and dropped into the alley, on the far side of the building from the palace.

“Lucky Charm,” she murmured, tossing her yo-yo up into the air and concentrating on her need to get into the palace. It shot up, throwing out sparkles in every imaginable shade of red, pink, and white. But thankfully, it didn’t appear to have gone high enough to be visible from the palace wall.

With a flash, the sparkles all came together into…

_ What in Tikki’s spots  _ is _ this? _ Marinette wondered, looking down at the irregular sheet of black-spotted red metal she now clutched in her hands.  _ It looks kind of like… a breastplate for a bipedal cow, maybe? _

She whipped out her yo-yo and vaulted back up to the roof. There was a clang of metal as her Lucky Charm hit the rooftop.

_ Of course! _ Marinette suddenly realized.  _ That’s what this is for! Ok… so I need to get to there, and then there, and throw there… Got it. _ She slipped carefully from rooftop to rooftop, keeping as low as possible, until she was opposite the jump point she needed. Then she braced herself, and flung her Charm as hard as she could. It went flying through the air to crash to the ground on the far side of the courtyard. There was the crash and clang of metal on stone, and the Guards turned to see what was happening.

Trusting in Ladybug’s luck, Marinette let fly with her yo-yo and shot across the gap to land safely on the palace roof. From there it was easy to creep across the roof and drop down onto her balcony.

“Tikki, spots off,” she whispered. She felt the Ladybug magic drain away, and Tikki popped into existence in front of her. The kwami dived into the pocket of Marinette’s nightgown, and Marinette padded out into her main room. She grabbed a roll from a small tray on a side table and slipped it into Tikki’s pocket.

_ Now what? _ she wondered.  _ If anybody came in to look for me, I’m pretty much in Plagg’s jaws. Even if they don’t guess what’s really going on, they’ll know I have some way of slipping out of my very nice prison cell. _

_ Only thing to do is bite the bullet, poke my head out, and see what’s happening. If I actually had been here all night, that would be the logical thing to do, especially since the alarms are dying down a bit. _

She tiptoed over to the door, stepped out, and almost collided with a pair of Moth Guards.

“Princess Dupain-Cheng!” said one of them. “Please, stay in your quarters. There’s an assassin running around with the Ring of the Black Cat.”

“ _ What? _ ” Marinette blurted out.

“Someone just attacked and killed one of the Guards on watch duty,” said the Guard, “with a Cataclysm. I wasn’t there myself, but the murdered Guard’s partner saw the whole thing, and he survived to testify.”

Marinette babbled out something, she had no idea what, and staggered back into her room before falling into a chair.

_ No, _ she thought.  _ It can’t be. The man I met tonight can’t be a murderer. It’s not possible. _

Then her brain started working again.  _ Wait a minute. It really  _ isn’t _ possible. I was  _ with _ Cat Noir when the alarm bells went off, and the Ring of the Black Cat doesn’t let you be in two places at once. Whoever killed that Guard, it  _ wasn’t _ the man I ran into. _

_ So which one is the real Cat Noir? _

“Tikki?” she whispered.

The ladybug kwami popped out of her pocket, looking as nervous as Ladybug felt.

“Tikki,” whispered Marinette, “was that the  _ real _ Cat Noir I met on the rooftop?”

“Yes,” said Tikki firmly. “I don’t know who he was Fused with, but I  _ know _ Plagg’s feel. That was definitely the real Cat Noir.”

“Thank Tikki,” breathed Marinette reflexively.

“You’re welcome!” chirped Tikki with an impish smile. Then her eyes went wide. “Marinette, there’s something I just realized I need to tell you about. Do you remember when I explained the limits on Miracle?”

Marinette ticked them off on her fingers. “Only one use per transformation for now, only one target, can’t bring back humans if they’ve been dead for more than a few minutes, and… something about not being able to fix changes that have set? I didn’t really understand that part.”

“It’s all about how things see themselves,” said Tikki distractedly. “That tree you used Miracle on still thought of itself as a tree, even if it was a dead one, so Miracle turned it back into a living tree. If you came on a tree that had just been cut down and chopped up into boards, the boards would still think of themselves as parts of a tree, so Miracle would turn them back into a tree. But the pieces of wood in that chair over there think of themselves as part of a chair now, so if you used Miracle on them you’d still have a chair…”

The kwami visibly shook herself. “But that’s not the point. There’s one more limit I didn’t mention at the time. Plagg and I are equals, but that doesn’t mean we cancel each other out on all points. I was the first kwami born, but he’ll be the last to die. In the end, everything I make, he’ll destroy. And because of that, his Cataclysm trumps my Miracle. If something is destroyed by a Cataclysm, you won’t be able to bring it back.”

Marinette winced. “Oh no…”

“Exactly,” said Tikki. “Normally it’s not really a problem, but whoever this attacker is, it sounds like he may have actually found some way to steal part of Plagg’s power.” She shook her tiny head. “How did he  _ do _ that?” she wondered out loud. “I would have sworn that nothing powered by our magics remained working after Downfall except the Seven themselves. And I’ve never been able to make new kwami-craft since. There’s some kind of barrier between the Cognitive and the Physical now. I think Downfall made it, parts of it feel like my own power.”

“Could it have been one of the other Miraculouses?” asked Marinette.

“I don’t seen how,” said Tikki. “Trixx couldn’t duplicate a Cataclysm, and neither could Wayzz or Pollen or Duusuu. Nooroo  _ could _ , at least enough for what that Guard described, but not without Agreste knowing about it.”

“And it doesn’t make any sense for Agreste to do this,” said Marinette. “Whatever else he is, the man’s neither crazy nor wasteful. Even if he had an inkling that the Ring is once again active, and even if he decided that framing Cat Noir was his best course of action, surely he would have killed a civilian rather than one of his own Guards.”

“Exactly,” said Tikki.

“Well,” Marinette said, and then paused to let out a jaw-cracking yawn. “Plagg, but I’m tired,” she said. “I need to get some sleep, whatever’s going on. Wake me up if this assassin shows up, would you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a small and select body that were gathered to discuss the previous night’s events. Gabriel Agreste himself sat at the head of the table, with Nooroo seated on his usual little cushion at his master’s elbow. Adrien had seated himself at the foot of the table. It was appropriate enough, as he was easily the most junior member of this impromptu council, but he also wanted to keep himself, and Plagg’s ring, as far from his father as possible.

Knight-Commander Raincomprix, as head of the New Astruc Chapter of the Moth Guard, was of course present, along with General Tsurugi of the First Imperial Legion, Marquis Darkblade, and Natalie Sancouer as the Imperial Seneschal. Mayor Bourgeois was likewise present, along with Master Damocles, head of the City Watch.

“I’m sure you all know why we are here today,” said Adrien’s father, in his best emotionless tone.

“Of course,” said Natalie, and the others echoed the sentiment.

“So far as I’m aware,” said Adrien’s father, “There has been no sighting of this new Cat Noir since his attack on the palace.”

“None of my knights have seen anything,” said Raincomprix.

“I can’t guarantee the same for my Watch, unfortunately,” said Master Damocles. “Without the Brooch, it’s a little harder to get the word out. For that matter, I didn’t want to tell them anything until I could speak to your Highness and confirm the rumors.”

Calling on all his training in poise, Adrien raised his hand.

“Yes, Adrien?” said his father.

“Just to play Plagg’s advocate,” said Adrien, pausing a breath to allow for the expected dry laughter at the macabre pun, “is there  _ any _ way this could have been faked? Possibly with the aid of one of the other Miraculouses? I know Lady Cesaire wears what looks like a replica of the Fox Pendant. If it’s actually the real thing…”

“A good thought, Adrien,” said his father with a nod of approval, “but I don’t see how it could have been done. Sir Caledan  _ did _ die at the moment he appeared to, right, Nooroo?”

“Indeed,” piped the Moth Kwami. “I can’t confirm what killed him, but he died at precisely the moment Sir Thornton reported.”

“And Sir Thornton struck and was struck by the Cat Noir, so we know that there was  _ somebody _ there, whether or not that somebody was under an illusion. So in order to pull this off, Cesaire would have had to disguise either herself or an accomplice as Cat Noir, kill Sir Caledan at precisely the right moment, and then either remove or destroy the body somehow without anybody noticing. Even with the Fox Pendant, she’d have been hard-pressed indeed to pull that off.”

“And besides myself, none of the Five could even approximate a Cataclysm,” said Nooroo.

Inside his pocket, Adrien’s other hand was nervously scratching Plagg between the ears. Even the kwami of Destruction seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation, and he was holding still as stone.

“So the question becomes how anyone managed to get ahold of the Black Cat’s Ring after all these years,” said Adrien’s father, “and why they chose to use it now, of all times. Not to mention why they elected to attack a random knight of the Moth Guard, instead of going after myself, or Adrian, or even someone like General Tsurugi or Sir Raincomprix.”

Marquis Darkblade snorted. “But is it not obvious?” he asked rhetorically. “Tell me, who was the last known Cat Noir? Was it not Felix Dupain? And is it not known that after Downfall, the Earrings that Felix Dupain bore were found by Joan Dupain-Cheng. And now, upon the very night that one of Dupain-Cheng’s descendants enters New Astruc, a Cat Noir attacks the palace. Either this is the greatest coincidence in history, or the Dupain-Cheng girl has the Ring.”

“But that makes no sense!” blurted out Adrien. He flinched at the stern look from his father, but refused to let himself be quailed. “Sorry, Your Grace,” he said, “But it doesn’t. Natalie, were the Dupain-Chengs  _ happy _ with the treaty between us?”

“No,” admitted Natalie. “They accepted it, they had no choice. But they weren’t happy with it.”

“Exactly my point,” said Adrien. “They only accepted the treaty  _ because they had no other choice _ . Because they knew that they couldn’t stand up to Father. But if the Dupain-Chengs have had the Ring all along, they could have fought Father and  _ won _ . Back then they had more men, a more stable economy, and with the Ring they’d have had the more powerful Miraculous, especially for straight-up warfare. So if they had the Ring… what is Princess Marinette  _ doing _ here?”

“Adrien has a point,” admitted his father. “But so does Marquis Darkblade,” he continued. “It’s possible that Joan Dupain-Cheng had the Ring, and hid it to prevent it from being abused once again. In that case, Sabine Dupain-Cheng may have just recently rediscovered the Ring. We don’t have enough information yet to know either way… or do we?”

“Sir Raincomprix, Natalie, Master Damocles, ask around,” he said. “See if anyone actually  _ saw _ the Princess Dupain-Cheng while our mystery Cat Noir was attacking. The Ring doesn’t let its Bearer be in two places at once.”

The various officials chorused ascent.

“The next question,” said Adrien’s father, “is how far to spread the news. Right now there are a lot of confused rumors, but very few people know what we’re actually facing.”

“Which could be a good thing,” said Natalie. “If word gets out about how bad the situation really is, we could have a riot on our hands. An apparently deranged assassin who could strike anywhere, kill with a touch, and then melt back into the crowd as easily as he came? Can you imagine a better incitement to panic?”

Adrien bit his lip as he contemplated that point.

_ On the one hand, the more people who know the truth, the faster this whatever-it-is will be found and exposed. But on the other hand, the more who think that it was me… or rather, that it was Cat Noir… who killed Sir Caledan, the harder it will be for me after all this is fixed. Even if this imposter is exposed and defeated, there will always be rumors that it was I who was behind everything. _

“You have a point, Natalie,” admitted Adrien’s father. “I will spread the true story to my Endowed, including the Moth Guard. The Brooch will let me do it without eavesdropping, and with Nooroo’s touch to augment their loyalty, I believe they can be trusted to keep their wits. General Tsirugi, Master Damocles, Marquis Darkblade, do you believe your men can be trusted with the true story?”

“I cannot be certain, Milord,” replied General Tsirugi with a nod of his head. “I would trust my men to follow their orders on the battlefield, but to keep something like this secret… it’s not exactly the sort of thing they are usually asked to do. Some among them could no doubt be trusted, but not all of them. I could make a list of those officers who I would trust with this secret, and then they could decide which of their men to share it with.”

“It’s much the same with my Watch” said Damocles. “There are a few among them who I can trust to keep even this secret, but most of them would blab it in the pub for extra drinks.”

“Very well,” said Gabriel. “Natalie, go ahead and ask about Princess Dupain-Cheng. General, Marquis, Master Damocles, start compiling a list of those who you think can be trusted with the secret. I will go ahead and spread the word to my Endowed. Everyone, dismissed!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Joan glanced down at her hands, clad in the skin-tight red of a Ladybug. She had dreamed of this, of course. How could she not, knowing that she was so close to the direct line, that her cousin held one of the two Primus Miraculous? _

_ “But I never wanted it to happen like this,” she whispered. _

_ A shriek, high-pitched and inhuman, jolted her from her reverie. She looked up through where the roof had once been to see a trio of winged shapes descending on her. Their bodies were the bodies of naked women, but their arms were black-feathered wings, and they had the heads and feet of owls. _

_ The leader of the three swiped at Joan as she dived, but Joan threw herself to the ground and came up in a roll, snatching her yo-yo from her belt. With a flick of her wrist, she spun the yo-yo up to speed and let it fly, catching one of the winged figures between the eyes as it came about for another run. _

_ “Your Highness?” the creature asked in a concerned voice. The ground began to shake. _

“Your Highness?”

Joan – no,  _ Marinette _ , blinked awake. A girl of about Marinette’s age was standing over her bed, shaking her shoulder. She had the tanned skin and golden-brown eyes that usually indicated Sapotisian ancestry, and was clad in the white dress with a Pink Moth crest that Marinette had already learnt indicated a Palace maid.

“Wha?” asked Marinettte blearily. She blinked a couple times, then tried again. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my room?”

“My name’s Manon, Your Highness,” said the maid, dropping into a curtsy. “And, uh, since you didn’t bring any staff, Mistress Sancouer assigned me to be your maid. If you don’t mind, that is. And… uh, His Highness is looking for you. Prince Adrien. Your betrothed. He’s in the sitting room. With Lady Lavillant.”

“Ok, ok,” said Marinette, waving her hand blearily. “Tell him I’ll be out in a few minutes, as soon as I find something to wear. What time is it, anyway?”

“Half past nine,” Manon said, her face still downturned. She backed hastily out the door, closing it behind her.

Marinette rolled out of bed, and Tikki popped out from under her pillow. “Good morning, Marinette,” she chirped softly in Marinette’s ear.

“Good morning, Tikki,” murmured Marinette with a smile. “Afraid you’re going to have to get used to having people like that poking around, though. It would look  _ really _ odd if I refused any servants, probably prompt Agreste to send in somebody invisible just to find out what I’m hiding.”

“I understand,” replied Tikki. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien smiled and rose to his feet as Marinette’s bedroom door opened and she stepped out. She was dressed in a white dressing gown, decorated with tiny pink spots that reminded Adrien of the pips on a strawberry, and looked absolutely adorable.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” said Adrien. “I hope you slept well?”

“Well enough,” replied Marinette. “May I ask what you are doing here?”

“I owe you a shopping trip, of course!” chirped Rose. “And the Flying Pig Company is doing  _ Much To-Do _ , and you and Adrien need to get to know each other. So we’re all going out shopping, and then going to the theater afterward. You might want to change first, though. That dressing gown’s a bit low-cut. I’m pretty sure that nobody is going to ogle Prince Adrien’s betrothed too obviously, but you can’t ask them to not even  _ look _ .”

“You don’t have to go right away,” interjected Adrien hastily, seeing the look of dismay on Marinette’s face. “The play doesn’t start for hours yet. Also, I sent Manon for breakfast, and there are some things we need to talk about. How much do you know about the alarm last night?”

“Not much,” replied Marinette. “One of A… your father’s Moth Guards said that a Cat Noir was attacking this palace, but that can’t have been right.”

“You’d think so,” said Adrien, keeping his face carefully neutral. If at all possible, he wanted to avoid actually  _ lying _ to Marinette. He couldn’t trust her with his secret now, but he still hoped to share it with her at some point.

He still wasn’t altogether sure he’d done the right thing by keeping the secret from his father. Adrien trusted his father absolutely, in love if not judgement, and he knew his father trusted him in the same way. But it would only take one of his father’s nobles or generals finding out about the Ring and drawing the obvious conclusion to bring forth disaster. Not to mention that, from what Adrien knew about glamours such as the one protecting his identity, each person brought in on the secret weakened the veil.

Adrien continued talking, not letting his voice betray his inner turmoil. “But somebody did attack the palace last night. Or more accurately, someone killed one of the Guards at the gate, then disappeared back into the night. So I’m afraid my father’s going to be even more strict about my security for a while. He’s decreed a minimum of four Moth Guards plus the Gorilla for today’s shopping trip, and pretty much anything else that takes me out of the palace. Also, this little guy will be shadowing me, in case it’s needed in a hurry.” A flick of his fingers indicated the luminous white Nooroon akuma perched on the back of his chair.

“The gorilla?” asked Marinette.

“My bodyguard,” explained Adrien. “I think he was one of father’s original retainers, back when he was still Baron Agreste. He was one of the first Endowed. Anyway, until we manage to find the intruder, or at least figure out what he’s after, there’s going to be some pretty heavy security around me, and therefore by extension around you.”

“Ok…” said Marinette slowly.

“Ok, that’s depressing,” said Rose brightly. “Let’s talk about something else! Marinette, what do you want to get on our shopping trip today? Maybe some new earrings?”

“No!” blurted out Marinette, her hands flying up to her ears. She took a quick breath. “Sorry,” she said, “These ones have… sentimental value.”

“I see,” said Rose with a smile. Her hand stroked the bracelet of gilt roses around her left wrist. “Ok,” she continued, “so not earrings. Perhaps a necklace? Those are always classic, and doubly so here in the Empire. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the Emperor wears a presence chain instead of a crown, so a necklace would help symbolize your rank. What about rose gold and sapphires, for Boulangerie’s colors? Plus I’m sure we could find sapphires that match your eyes.”

“Um…” said Marinette. “Yes, I suppose a necklace would be nice. But really, you don’t need to spend money on me. I  _ can _ afford my own jewelry, you know. And as much of our trade as comes through here, I’m sure my money will be good.”

“I told you last night,” said Adrien, “This is supposed to be a birthday present. Somewhat belated, I’ll admit, but better late than never, right?”

“Fine,” Marinette said, rolling her eyes. “But as long as we’re going on a shopping trip, there are some more practical things I’ll be wanting to get. Some dummies, for one, and fabric. I brought my own sewing kit, though I’m running low on a couple of thread colors… I’ll get a shopping list together. Is there paper and pen around here anywhere?”

“There should be some in that desk,” Adrien said.

The door slid open and Manon bustled into the room, carrying a tray with toast and tea and eggs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Flying Pig Company was truly excellent. The weather being fine, they were currently presenting in an open-air amphitheater, next door to the closed theater where they presented on rainy days. The “Royal Box” turned out to be a set of half-a-dozen padded and well-crafted chairs, two rows of three, separated from the smooth stone benches surrounding it by a chest-high wooden wall. They were set in the very front and center, giving what had to be the best view in the amphitheater.

Adrien had claimed the center chair, with Marinette placed at his left hand and the Gorilla crammed into the chair to his right. With Rose seated directly behind Marinette, that left one seat unoccupied. The four Moth Guards, meanwhile, had settled onto the benches on either side of the Royal Box.

Here and now, watching the actors cavort on the stage, listening to the timeless words of the Bard, Marinette could be happy as she had not been in weeks. All that would be needed to make the experience perfect would be a different companion in the next seat, one clad in black leather and with slitted green eyes…

With a wince, Marinette finally acknowledged what she’d been very carefully  _ not _ thinking since the previous evening.

_ I’m in love with Cat Noir _ .

She wasn’t sure how it had happened. Maybe it was just the stress of finding herself here in New Astruc, maybe it was Tikki’s feelings for her eternal partner bleeding over through their bond, maybe it was simply that he was attractive and she was attracted, maybe it was some combination of all of them. Whatever the cause, the fact remained that she’d fallen for Cat Noir, and fallen hard.

Of course, that didn’t change anything. She’d always known that while she might be a princess, she wouldn’t get a fairytale ending. No matter who she loved, she would have to marry Adrien Agreste. That was why she’d been so careful  _ not _ to let herself fall in love with anyone.

_ So stop thinking about it, you fool! Love or no love, you know perfectly well you've still got to marry Adrien Agreste. So stop making yourself miserable and think about something else! _

With resolute attention, Marinette focused her mind back on the play.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the intermission arrived, everybody in the Royal Booth practically dashed off in different directions. Adrien and Marinette were both heading for the privies, with the Gorilla tailing Adrien. Rose, on the other hand, headed up and over. She’d spotted Mylene and Ivan a few rows up, and they were just the people she wanted to talk to right now.

“Hello Mylene!” she chirped as she arrived. 

“Hello Rose,” replied Mylene. Ivan just stared at her, and Rose kept her wince purely internal. It wasn’t much of a surprise anyway. Ivan had no love for his Emperor, even if he’d sworn the oaths of loyalty, and Rose was well known to be a fervent loyalist.

“Enjoying the play?” Rose asked cheerfully. “I certainly am. No matter how many times I see these, they never get boring.”

“Me too,” replied Mylene. “I think they get better every time they do this. Or maybe I just appreciate Forgepound more these days.” She rubbed the ring on her left hand with a quiet smile.

“Yeah, it’s a good way for couples to get to know each other. That’s why I was so happy to see Adrien taking our new princess out here. What do you think of her, anyway?”

Ivan’s face went studiously blank. Mylene sighed. “Honestly? I feel sorry for her. I mean, I know not everybody’s as lucky as we are...” She gave Ivan’s arm a quick squeeze. “...but it’s still kind of sad that she doesn’t get a choice of who she’ll marry.” She smiled. “Still, who knows? Maybe she and Adrien will grow to love each other. It happens.”

Rose’s inner observer noted the irony in that exchange with amusement. 

_ Ivan, whose father had fought against the Emperor and who everyone knows only swore to him because he wanted peace, doesn't dare say anything even remotely critical of the Emper _ _ or lest his loyalty be called into question. Mylene, on the other hand, has no particular reason why anyone would doubt her loyalty, so she doesn't feel such a need to demonstrate it. So the one with no reason to resent the Emperor's authority criticizes his exercise of it, and the one who has reason to object remains silent. _

Meanwhile, Rose's outer self had gone on talking. “I hope so too. So, you doing anything later? I have to take Marinette out shopping after this, she’s far too unsparkly for her position, but I’ll probably be free after that.”

“I actually have a meeting with Darkblade this afternoon,” said Ivan. “And after that I’ll probably just be spending the evening in.” He smiled. “Not everyone has as much energy as you do, Rose.”

“Likewise,” Mylene said. “I think I’d just like a quiet evening.”

“I think…” said Rose, but she was cut off by a shout of alarm from below. She spun, just in time to see that someone dressed head to toe in blood-red leather had just grabbed the actress playing Beatrice Cesaire by the arm. Rose instantly suspected she knew who this was, but the next words she heard clinched it.

“Cat Noir…” whispered Juleka, barely audible.

Two of the four Moth Guards drew their swords, and as the background chatter of the audience died away, they began to warily advance towards the stage. The other two grabbed up crossbows from where they had set them, and with Endowed strength cocked the weapons. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw Juleka leaping down, the glint of a drawn dagger in her hand as she wove through the crowds.

The Cat Noir, meanwhile, didn’t seem to be paying the least attention to anyone other than the woman in his arms. His head cocked to one side as that featureless metal mask seemed to consider the actress. Then, abruptly, he stiffened and in a single furious motion drove his crimson-gloved fist into the helpless woman’s face. Time seemed to slow, and despite the intervening distance, Rose could see all to clearly the explosion of crimson and grey and off-white as bone shattered and blood and flesh was pulverized under the force of that blow.  

Twin crossbows thrummed. They could not have possibly missed, not from that range, but neither bolt pierced the blood-red leather. All they seemed to do was send the Cat Noir stumbling. The other two Moth Guards lunged forward, their wary advance become a sprinting charge. The Cat Noir turned his stagger into a whirling spin, flinging the actress’s headless corpse at one of the Guards and knocking him back off the stage. The Cat Noir staggered backwards as he released the corpse, but then turned that stagger into a backflip, coming up on his feet. With a flick of his wrist, the chain of his nunchucks retracted into oblivion, the two rods snapping together into a silvery staff, just in time to deflect a sword-blow from the second Guard.

The two Guards that had taken the crossbow shots dropped their weapons, pulling out swords and charging up to join the fray even as the first Guard shoved off the body of the dead actress (A Mrs Sage Rashid, Rose’s stunned mind noted), and clambered to his feet.

Beside Rose, Ivan clenched his fists. “Stay here, Mylene,” he rumbled, and began to push through the crowds towards the stage. Meanwhile, the Cat Noir had ducked forwards and into the second Guard’s attack, bulling him off his feet just in time for Guards three and four and Juleka to arrive. He spun, nunchucks flashing as the segments separated once more, chain elongating to wrap around Guard number 3’s leg. And even as Guard number four tripped over a box that had been left as part of the scenery, the chain retracted once more, yanking the third Guard’s leg out from under him and dumping him on his back.

With the Cat Noir’s nunchuks momentarily busy, Juleka sprinted forward with more-than-human speed, and her dagger flashed as she tried to plant it between the Cat Noir’s ribs. But the crimson leather turned the blow as if it were steel plate, and the retaliatory swipe of the Cat Noir’s crimson-clad fist caught Juleka a glancing blow. She managed to roll with the punch, coming up in a somersault, but she was moving more slowly now.

As Ivan passed the Royal Box, the luminous white akuma fluttered up to meet him, landing on his vest. White energy flowed around him, before solidifying into a figure of gray-black stone with two spots of golden fire for eyes, almost twice Ivan's already impressive height.

Ivan crouched, ready to leap up onto the stage, but froze as the Cat Noir clenched his free hand into a fist and black fire enveloped it. The Cat Noir opened his hand, blackness dripping from the splayed fingers. Rose hadn’t been able to hear him speak over the shouts, but she hadn’t had to. That aura of darkness could only be one thing.

At the same moment, a figure went flying over Rose’s head from behind, to land crouched on all fours upon the roof of the Royal Box. For a moment that seemed to stretch to eternity it crouched there, and even if it was impossible, Rose knew what she was seeing. She had seen this figure countless times in windows and storybooks and histories. Black leather covering the body from neck to toe, a black leather tail and cat ears perched in golden-blond hair, and a silvery baton attached to the back of the belt.

And then the black-clad Cat Noir leapt down upon the red-clad one. The red Cat’s hand, still charged with the black fires of a Cataclysm, came up and caught the black Cat in the chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN!!
> 
> And so the intruder returns, and our false and true Cats Noir meet face-to-face for the first time. But shall their first meeting prove their last? Who is this imposter? And what shall Ladybug do while all this is unfolding? 
> 
>  
> 
> Find out next time on _The Downfall Akuma!_


End file.
